Guardian
by Elissa Alejandra
Summary: Sequel to A New Life. One year later, Sarah has chosen a new theater and is just beginning to start over again and adjust to her new life. But her decision to come to this very different city may lead her to more than she bargained for...
1. Chapter 1

He rested his chin on his fist and sighed deeply. He did not mean to be so obvious to the beautiful woman sitting next to him, but he was already bored to tears with the play.

Bruce Wayne never liked the theater.

Since he was a boy he hated going to the theater, even when his parents were alive. Before it had been the dark of the wide yet seemingly inescapable place; the startling explosives of props, the loud music, and the truly horrible costumes that pranced themselves on the stage.

Now, it was simply pure boredom. He hated sitting here, wasting his time watching the antics of a few overzealous thespians act out something that was really very silly to him. He considered them all young, ego-ridden annoyances that had no concept of the real world that passed them by everyday. These so-called actors believed they didn't fit at all into this reality, so their only hope was to escape into this truly degrading world of forced tears and overacting.

But deep down beyond that however, there was something else he truly hated about going to the theater.

But that theater had long since shut down. It had rotted away just like the rest of Gotham City had in the years he'd been away. The city shut it down and used the pieces of the foundation and the entire building for scrap. The homeless in the streets simply used it as a place to sleep.

The new one was clear on the other side of town, where the rich and elite of Gotham were rebuilding their once broken city. This new theater was much larger, grander, and to Bruce's chagrin, much more gaudy than the last. The lobby alone rivaled the halls of Versailles itself. Corinthian columns painted in deep crimson jutted out from the pale ivory walls while rich velvet drapes stood in between every other two. Golden statues of Greek nymphs and cherubs floated above the doors dividing the rooms of the great lobby; some were placed at the base of the columns, some were resting above the velvet drapes, and some were gazing down from the high ceiling. The ones that were floating high above among the ceiling painted with scenes of Greek lore held massive chandeliers, and at least six of these were in one hall alone.

He only wanted to bring back the glory of the former Gotham, and he thought that maybe bringing a little culture back into the city would help rejuvenate that. He decided to fund a new theater for the city through various sponsors and of course, from his own pocket. He would be lying if he said that his reputation had nothing to do with it.

And now, thanks to the flamboyant opulence and pretension of the architects and decorators he hired, his theater had turned into a garish fairy-tale construction of extreme proportions. Bruce actually winced when he first walked in before it opened to the public, and saw the Grand Staircase – an exact replica of that in Paris. The stairs were decorated in marble and onyx, a true rendition of worldly endeavors paid by the one of the richest in the world, while the lobby was decorated with Venetian mosaics. The main foyer was of course draped with the velvet and the golden chandeliers. But the rotunda threw him off balance a bit. This area of the theater was adorned in rich colors and gilded luxury like the others, but held four large tapestries of gruesome creatures. Goblins. They all faced the center of the rotunda – a rich floor mosaic of the sun and moon gleaming in shards of silver and gold.

In the auditorium itself, one great chandelier illuminated the ornate ceiling of even more paintings and statues. Luminous, fluid figures surged forth from the corners and shadows, and contrasted greatly with the deep red and gold of the theatre itself.

This would be the first and last time he would ever commission a project on behalf of the arts. It would also be the last time he would ever come here. On opening night, it was mandatory that he come for the first performance, and Bruce Wayne would play the part well. He would arrive in his chauffeured car, make a speech, saunter inside with the rest, watch the play, and then leave. Of course, having a beautiful woman on your arm as a date was a must. But it was a small perk. The only thing he knew about her was that she was a gorgeous blonde, and her name was Shanna. That was all he needed to know for an occasion like this.

The play had only just started, and he was bored to death.

* * *

Shanna touched his arm ever so lightly, grazing her fingertips against the soft fabric of his black suit. Bruce blinked lazily and shifted in his seat at the sudden gesture. He glanced over at the beautiful woman sitting next to him. She gave him a coy half-smile, her golden locks hiding half of her perfect face. She continued to run her fingertips up and down his hand until they languidly slid down to his thigh. He started then, sitting up straighter. He reached for her hand, squeezed it gently, and brought it back to her own lap.

He regarded coolly as she pouted and tossed her back behind her shoulder at the silent denial of her advances. He sighed and turned his gaze back to the play. After they left the theater, he would take her straight back home. He had better things to do than try to entertain her any further as Bruce Wayne.

The lights dimmed, signaling only the end of the third act of 'Pygmalion'. The auditorium erupted into a pensive wave of applause. Bruce clapped his hands several times and sank back into his plush chair. A soft light hit the stage revealing a large parlor, or sitting room, Bruce really was not paying much attention. He knew that the musical 'My Fair Lady' was an adaptation of this play, but that was all he knew, or all he cared to know.

That all changed when the prop door on the stage opened.

The character was Eliza Doolittle, dressed in her finest. But it was not the character that caused Bruce to finally sit up in his seat. It was the actress.

She was radiant in the light, garbed in an opera cloak, a dazzling white evening dress clinging to her lithe form, and sparkling diamonds covering her arms and delicate throat. The audience seemed to hold their breath when she crossed the stage, she was a quite the vision to behold in her elegant array. She came to the hearth, and switched on the electric lights; every move carried with accurate grace. The lights illuminated her character's exhaustion; her pallor contrasting strongly with her dark eyes and hair; and her expression was almost tragic. She took off her cloak, put her fan and flowers on the piano, and sat down on the bench, brooding and silent.

Bruce was simply awestruck by the actress. She was Eliza Doolittle? The main character in this play? Impossible. Why had he not noticed her before? Was it the costume, perhaps? The magnificent way the light was washing over her, glittering and luminous?

He shifted in his seat again and leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look at this stunningly beautiful woman on the stage. She turned her head downward and reached for something around her neck. Bruce blinked and tilted his head when a brilliant yet very brief glimmer of crystal white flashed before him. A diamond solitaire the size of an infant's fist fell back lightly on the actress' chest, its brilliant luster strangely fading away when she sighed audibly.

Her beauty took his breath away, but her palpable melancholy; her crushing bitterness nearly broke his heart. With that far away look on her beautifully tragic face, he could almost feel her heartache. That raw vulnerability she exuded all but broke him. He actually felt pity for her. Her manner was so real, so believable that he wished that she truly did not feel this; that she was merely playing her character.

His lips parted slightly, now suddenly entranced by the mystery woman on the stage that trapped her audience in her spell.

He watched her, studied her, and admired her as the play wore on. Now he never wanted the play to end. He would be content just watching her for the rest of the night if he had to. There was going to be a change of plans after the play was finished.

He was going to personally congratulate the cast for a job well done. Then he was going to introduce himself to this Sarah Williams.

* * *

**AN:** yea yea, I know, I'm still working on other stories. Please please please don't give me heat for starting another one without finishing another. I will get to them I swear, and this is the last story I have in mind. Anyone see 'Batman Begins'? This takes place afterward, and don't ask about the Joker, none of that going on here. However, remember the arrowhead in the movie? The element there will play a HUGE part in this story. And Christian Bale is such a freakin' hottie and the best Batman ever so he's in my mind ever so often as I write this. Enjoy, and as always - thank you to all reviewers!

Shalom y Amor


	2. Diamond

Sarah took one deep breath before stepping out unto the stage. A roaring round of applause and cheers erupted throughout the grand hall as she made her way to stage front. She smiled, genuinely appreciative of their enthusiastic response. She slinked past her co-stars and stopped near the edge of the stage before making a low curtsy. The crowd became even louder as row after row ascended in a standing ovation. Sarah laughed to herself, overwhelmed at the reaction of her final bow. She was then met with a huge bouquet of red roses handed to her by one of her co-stars. She dipped her head and hugged Bianca with her free arm, and they exchanged quick kisses on the cheek before Bianca moved away.

Sarah clutched the bouquet to her, inhaling the heady scent of sweet roses. As the cheering continued, she had to blink back her tears of crushing astonishment. She was not expecting a response like this, especially from her first performance.

She stepped back to take the final bows with the entire cast of 'Pygmalion'. They all worked so hard on their first play of the season, the first play in the new Eternity Theater Hall. They were all deserving of such a prolonged applause.

But everyone knew that Sarah Williams completely stole the show.

Sarah was not one to gloat, however, and everyone knew that as well. Which made her all the more loved and respected. Even if her cast mates did envy her, they did not hate her. It was more of a grudging admiration. She was the youngest and by far, the most talented actress in the entire company. The Bella Tragedia Theater Company.

Sarah took one last, lingering look over the magnificent auditorium. The lights on the stage blared down upon her and her cast-mates, blocking out any traces of light in the audience. Besides the movement of the audience still showing their appreciation of their performance, Sarah could see nothing beyond the second row. She scanned over the finely-dressed onlookers absently, her smile never wavering.

Then her eyes stopped at the front row. Her breath caught when she saw the utterly gorgeous man staring back at her. He stood applauding her with the rest of the audience, a small smile on his lips. Dressed in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, his hair slicked back neatly, his face set in near-adoration, and his gaze… Sarah had to look away. She had never eyes that intense since… she mentally tossed the thought aside. It had been a long time since she had seen something like that… immensely powerful and thrilling at the same time.

Sarah let her free hand gently brush the diamond that lay between her breasts. After her last bow, she would tuck it back underneath her clothing – the way she always wore it.

* * *

After she left Metropolis, she went back to her home to live with her family while she picked her brains out to try and decide where her life was going to go. Her family didn't mind having her back at all; Toby was absolutely thrilled to see her almost everyday after she had been away from home for so long. But Sarah was not one to stay at home all day only to amuse her little brother. She went back to her local University to tie up some loose ends with her department, which took well over two months. She even got a part-time job coaching the new drama students.

But her family knew from the moment she stepped off the train that something had changed in Sarah. She was more composed, held her head up higher than she used to, her whole being just seemed to glow from the inside out; and when Toby looked up into her face, he couldn't tear himself away from the flecks of gold within her green eyes. Yet, the only person who said anything to her about it was her father, who only remarked, "There's something different about you." Sarah would only reply with a soft and knowing smile.

She was different, she knew it. She still felt that raw, giddy power within her that she still had yet to understand. But one morning, as she stepped out of her front door inhaling the fresh, late summer air, she stopped short and clutched the diamond she wore around her neck. It was gone. The unknown energy that was once within her was gone, before she could even become used to it or learn how to use it. She'll never forget that morning; it was as if a candle had suddenly been snuffed out. She remembered looking up into the clear sky then, searching for a sign, anything at all… Superman had finally left and she knew it. With his leaving, the power in the crystal diamond he had given had gone out. She was left with only a memory, yet it was enough for her.

Wherever she went, whatever she did, she kept her diamond solitaire on her at all times. She never took it off, even when she slept or showered. It still remained her comfort and her security during this uncertain time. It was the most precious gift anyone had ever given her and she was determined never to part from it, even for a second. Whenever she felt lonely, or sad, or anxious she let her fingers caress the smooth gem that lay between her breasts; and as the months wore on, it soon became a normal habit.

It was never a struggle to get used to living her life without that light inside of her. That fiery spark she was born with was still inside of her. Her confidence was never destroyed, because she had lived in Metropolis. She had lived in the city; became a friend to the most powerful man on Earth, and she had had her love with her once… She had lived out the most thrilling and most significant year of her life. She still never assumed, never took anything for granted, everything from she learned from her year in Metropolis and the Labyrinth stayed with her.

But there had always been one reason she ever truly felt alone and unhappy. Even before she felt her power fade away, she never felt his presence again. There was no phantom touch or breath on her cheek when she found herself alone. After long, lazy afternoons and painful, black nights she finally confronted herself with the truth and admitted that the Goblin King was constantly on her mind. Days passed, weeks, months. She remained hollow and empty, all because she tortured herself with the knowledge that she had fallen in love with Jareth, and there was nothing she could do about it – she refused to.

She kept the owl feather that she found in her apartment tucked away in a small box on her vanity, always glancing at it whenever she passed by. This was all she would ever do besides think about him day and night. She would not sit in front of her mirror and call his name; she despised herself if she lay awake in her bed at night, burning for his touch.

It hurt, physically hurt to think of him. But she was as stubborn as she was desperate. She would not be the first to reach out. She remembered all too clearly what he had almost done to Superman.

But didn't he still care for her? While she lived day after day with the thought that she still loved him, did he even so much as think of her? Why torture herself day after day, only if it meant another refusal from her.

She didn't even dream about him. Her dreams were the same as they had been before she moved to Metropolis – grey and ordinary. Occasionally, she would dream of Clark. Sometimes he was Clark, sometimes he was Superman. She was grateful for these last images of him, but they could not replace Jareth.

Finally, after months of making herself nearly mad with the thought of him lingering in her mind, she decided to call on her friends. Perhaps she could get some answers from them. When she sat in front of her vanity and stared at her reflection for nearly ten minutes, she finally gathered the nerve to call Hoggle's name. But there was no answer. She called for Didymus and Ludo and for Hoggle again. But still, there was nothing. She barely remembered grabbing the edge of her vanity and shaking it, screaming for her friends who would not come to her call. Tears began to stream down her face as she screamed their names over and over again. She called all but one.

She had wanted to take something and smash her mirror to pieces; instead she switched off her lights and cried in near darkness for hours on end. She was exhausted mentally and physically. She tried so hard to forget about him. But the harder she tried, the more difficult it became. Now her friends wouldn't even come to her. She didn't know if it was because of him, or worse, if they might have forgotten her too.

Tears spilled from her eyes as sorrow overwhelmed her, and she frantically beat her pillows with her fists. Her mind's eye was filled with his image; how he had looked, wild and beautiful. How his eyes had glowed with inner fire when they were together, when he flirted and teased her on some nights in her Metropolis apartment. She could not tear him from her mind. But she kept screaming to herself that she was not a fool, that she did the right thing.

Sarah's tears dripped onto her pillows, all of her sorrows, her tears, were being pushed out of her body into this one culminating fit of pain and exhaustion. She sobbed aloud in her painful loneliness and her damned pride that she refused to cast aside. She clawed at her bed sheets and hid her sobs into her pillows, barely conscious of a soft touch on her shoulder. She stopped then, her eyes flying open. She turned over slowly, waiting to see him standing there looking down at her, his elegant form silhouetted in the dark. Instead she saw a small boy staring at his sister with wide eyes. Sarah fought the disappointment that rose in her chest as she slapped her tears away.

Toby kept his hand on her shoulder and murmured, "Don't cry, Sarah."

She stared unblinking at her little brother, who was not even ten years old. He was always a precocious child, and now, he seemed years older than he really was. Yet, he pleaded with her with such childish innocence she couldn't resist lifting her blanket with the strength she had left.

"Come here," Sarah whispered. Toby readily obliged and climbed into bed next to his sister. She let her arm drop over him and curled her body next to his. They lay in silence together. Toby never asked why she was crying and Sarah never said a word to explain herself. It was in this moment that she realized she was not alone, she was never alone. If she could pity anyone now, it wasn't herself, it was Superman. He would go to the ends of the Universe to find a family, though his efforts would probably prove to be in vain.

Here, she had a family, and she had a piece of Superman that was always with her. She had given him nothing.

* * *

The following weeks were better. She kept herself occupied at all hours with the local college and her family, and after Christmas came and went, she received a notice from Gotham City. She had never even made any callbacks the whole time since she came back home. The company from Gotham must have caught up with her somehow. Perhaps they were desperate for new blood, or perhaps they finally gave into her old Professor's urgings to have her join. She knew he was the type of person that didn't like to see great talent wasted. The other companies had not tried to contact her, so she readily decided to do some research on Gotham.

It was much further from home than Metropolis had been. The city itself had suffered a depression but was now just getting back on its feet. And then there was the Batman. That was the absolute last thing she needed right now. Another man in tights just waiting to barge in on her life; not that the last time this happened was all bad. But there were some things she did not want repeated again. Apparently, this Batman had an agenda; to make Gotham City a better place for all citizens and to save it from the ruins it was quickly turning into. According to every newspaper article and recent statistic she found, he was doing his job quite well. Yet, she was still wary. A grown man who dressed up like a bat clearly had some issues…

But when she started doing her research on the theater company, she found them to be quite professional and had quite a reputation throughout the country. But what really sold her was the new theater that was being built just for the company. It was going to be brand new, completely modern yet dripping with elegance and prestige. The few pictures she managed to find of the new theater took her breath away, and that night she told her parents she was moving to Gotham City. And after all she had gone through recently, she thought it was best to move away from home once again and start over.

But her father had been just as wary as she had been. He quickly reminded her that Arkham Asylum was there, the city was still infested with crime, not too mention the Batman lurked in every street corner and building.

"Don't worry, Dad," she told him firmly, "I plan to stay very far away from him too." It wasn't a lie, or a coy exaggeration. She meant it. She wanted nothing to do with this Superman-wanna-be do-gooder. This Batman simply paled in comparison to her Knight, who was now light years away from Earth.

Soon afterward, she mailed back her confirmation to the company, packed her bags and boxes, and moved West to Gotham City. It was indeed very different here than in Metropolis. Metropolis had seemed brighter to her, more alive. Gotham was well, in a word, industrious. It was gritty, and the weather here always seemed dreary to her. Days passed before she saw actual sunlight. Gotham was just as busy as Metropolis, and the people were sometimes just as rude but that was simply because it was city life.

Even though the new theater had exceeded her expectations, the pay however, was not as much as she had hoped for. She had to take up residence with several other girls from the Company who were renting out a furnished building in the Gaslight district of Gotham. It wasn't exactly downtown, but it was still a safe and busy neighborhood, especially on the weekends. When she pulled up to the given address, however, she was immediately appalled and strangely fascinated at her new home.

This Victorian two-story complex had been painted pink. Granted it was not a true peptol bismol pink but more of a fuchsia shade. But it was still pink.

Sarah had deduced that the house was built around the turn of the century but was newly refurbished with polished hardwood floors, high ceilings, drapes, and Victorian flourishes throughout. The owner was a patron of the arts in Gotham and rented the house out specifically to Company members. Evidently she wanted the house to match the flamboyant ambiance of the theater. Each of the rooms had slightly different décor with hand sewn bedding and furniture. Sarah's room was painted an eggplant purple with a door that was painted red. The bed frame was made of intricate wrought iron with several antique mirrors decorating one side of the wall. On the other side was a small window where she could look out onto small inner courtyard in the back. She wasn't surprised to find a statue of a standing angel holding a small bowl for hungry birds.

Before she left home, Sarah had several phone conversations with some of the girls living here; Bianca being one of them. The dark-skinned girl with blue eyes stood in the doorway of Sarah's new room interrupting Sarah's reverie.

"Hey, Sarah."

Sarah turned away from the window and smiled amiably. "Hey, Bianca. Nice to finally meet you."

Bianca chuckled and looked at Sarah warily. "How did you know it was me?"

Sarah only shrugged. She would perhaps never be able to explain how she knew the things she did. "It was a hunch. Or maybe the voice just matched."

Bianca shrugged off Sarah's candor; they had already gotten to know each other beforehand. "Hey I know you have some unpacking to do but just wanted to let you know Sophie and I are right down the hall. We've already agreed to no overnight guests."

"Oh, sure." She honestly didn't think it would be a problem.

"Unless you're quiet," Bianca smiled knowingly.

Sarah knelt and began to unzip her bags. "Or you know, if you only just fall asleep together."

"Boring," Bianca teased, "I'll see you tonight, yeah? We're ordering Chinese."

"Oh, no, I can't." Sarah took out her toiletries and threw them on her bed. "I already promised to get together with Krista and Emily tonight."

"Cool," Bianca said before she left Sarah alone, "we'll leave some leftovers for you."

Krista and Emily were two of the girls she had bonded with almost immediately when she arrived in Gotham. Krista was one of the girls she talked with on the phone but had decided to move out due to the constant spats she had with Sophie. Emily had belonged to the Company in Metropolis and had always gotten along with Sarah. They all decided to meet at the bar and grill in Chimes Square. Emily and Krista were already seated at the bar enjoying their drinks when Sarah plopped in the empty seat next to them.

"Sorry I'm late," Sarah said, "this city is just as big as Metropolis."

"No problem," Krista handed Sarah a full pint of beer. "So, how is the pink house?"

"It's pink," Sarah's tone of voice was flat and dry.

Emily nearly choked on her drink. "Wait, the pink house in the Gaslight District on Murphy?"

Sarah and Krista both stared at her. That was exactly where the house was. "Yeah," Sarah confirmed, "the one by Coley Square."

Emily shook her head and laughed heartily. "Oh, man..."

"What?" Sarah said.

"Do you know what that used to be?"

"Oh god." Sarah didn't like where this was going.

"A brothel," Emily's laugh became even louder. "You're living in a brothel! I'm surprised you two didn't know."

"They must have assumed I did," Sarah took a big gulp of her beer. "And you've been here longer. It does explain the décor though. Fantastic. I love Gotham City so far."

Krista shrugged and spoke evenly. "It's alright, in its own right."

"It's rough," Emily countered firmly.

"It'll get better though."

"Oh, Jesus, here we go."

"No, really," Krista said, staying firm. "I really think the Batman is a godsend. I think he's the real thing. He wants to make this shithole better – bring it back to its glory days."

"It takes economics to do that."

"Well, that too…"

"No," Sarah said, coming to Krista's defense. "I think you're on to something. It's going to take a lot more than economics to fix this city. I just find this Batman's method a little overboard."

"Vigilantes need to have a presence," Krista's tone suddenly became very serious. "People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy." What she said was absolutely true and all three girls knew she was right. But it was a conversation killer none the less. Emily turned back to Sarah.

"You know what, I've heard it's nice inside the pink house."

"It is," Sarah nodded. "But I thought the house was a dormitory at one time."

"It has been, since the '20s. I think it's been a dorm longer than it was a brothel."

Krista smiled and added playfully, "So, which room do you think you have, Miss Lulu White?"

* * *

After settling in, and after one sleepless night in an unfamiliar setting, she decided to check out the new theater and meet with the rest of her cast mates before she began working on their play. The theater was certainly a beacon of light among a near-dismal, recovering city. She was absolutely awestruck by it. Everything about it, the architecture, the decorations, the overall grandeur of it… she was a fairy-tale princess again. Only she was the dreamy young girl lost in her childish naïveté before the Labyrinth. She was allowed to see every corner of the theater except for the rotunda. The workers explained to her that it was not quite finished yet and it would be ready just before opening night, which that was still nine weeks away.

But when she saw the Grand Staircase, it hit her. All of this… the theater, the acceptance, a city so far away from home… this was no coincidence. But it was too late. She was accepted, she already found a place to live, and she would start work very soon. It was only a matter of time; time she knew he was biding.

In the meantime, Sarah occupied her thoughts with rehearsals day after day. She kept her nights busy by socializing with her new cast mates. She made sure to come back to her loft exhausted and fell into dreamless sleep night after night. Fortunately, the only time she ran into the Batman was at the newspaper stands, and even then he never appeared in the paper more than twice a week.

But whenever she felt alone or lost, she would gently hold the diamond she never took off in her hand, and it never failed to bring her comfort.

On opening night, she wore her diamond onstage, and it had brought her luck. The applause they all received just wouldn't cease. Finally, they all took one last bow before raising their hands, waving a good-night to their audience.

Sarah smiled and her eyes wandered back to the front row. The man she met eyes with earlier continued to smile at her, never taking his intense gaze away, until the curtains finally dropped.

* * *


	3. First Impression

Backstage to the theater, people were bustling to and fro with excitement after their first performance. Sarah exchanged congratulations and thanks from her cast members before settling herself in at her station, but she would often refer to it as her vanity. Finally dressed in a loose fitting blouse and slacks, she leaned back in her chair, reaching up to pull out the many pins holding her lustrous hair together. She sighed, somewhat enjoying remaining still and calm amidst the sea of people in motion. She shook out her hair, running her fingers through and relaxing at the touch of her own fingers. She closed her eyes and relished this one quiet moment.

"Sarah," drawled a low, masculine voice. Her one moment she had to herself was immediately interrupted by her cast mate, Sebastian Vidal. He played the male lead of the play, Professor Henry Higgins. He gave a delightful, not to mention stellar performance of the cultured yet arrogant Professor. But Sebastian was not so far from the character he played on stage.

Sarah took a deep breath before opening her eyes. She was met with Sebastian's striking face looking down at hers impishly. "Yes, Sebastian?" she asked, cocking her head, "what is it?"

"You did quite wonderful tonight, my dear. I wanted to offer my congratulations and commend you on your brilliant performance."

Sarah smiled as she leaned forward to remove her earrings. "Anything else?"

"Well, since you mention it, I have been waiting for that very quiet dinner, followed by drinks at my place. Hopefully, we can skip the drinks."

Sarah sighed inwardly and smiled at Sebastian's forwardness. She had to admit that her co-star was devilishly handsome and charming. He was also exceedingly pretentious and spoke with a clipped British accent being that he was born and raised in Cornwall, England. And every time she heard his voice, a bittersweet emotion would pass over her. It was this and Sebastian's playboy charm that fortunately came close to the point of irritation for Sarah.

"You know my answer, Sebastian."

"Fine," he sighed dramatically. "I suppose I'll ask again tomorrow."

Before Sarah could answer, the troupe director, Alexandra, stepped into the room. Her lips, painted in deep red, formed a bright smile on her aging, yet still beautiful face. Alexandra was a nice enough woman, but she was a demanding and sometimes harsh critic of her company. She would frequently let her controlling demeanor seep into her personal life outside of the theater. But Sarah did not mind her. She was the perfect leader and director for their troupe, and that was more than enough for her.

Alexandra congratulated everyone and shared several hugs and kisses with the cast and crew. After a time, she stood in the center of the room and motioned for silence. "Wonderful work, everyone! We blew the whole audience away! Never in my fifteen years of working in the theater have I heard an applause like that before…"

Sebastian then rose from Sarah's vanity and bowed slightly. "Oh, you're very welcome."

Several girls laughed at the smug look on Sebastian's handsome face, but Alexandra would have none of it. It was no surprise that the lead actor and the director of the company butted heads from time to time. "Sit down, Sebastian. I wasn't talking to you."

"Hmm," Sebastian murmured, flashing a wink.

Alexandra only flinched before addressing the rest of the company. "I want to congratulate you all for your hard work…"

Sarah kept her gaze to the director as she spoke, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She stared absently ahead of her, her vision becoming blurry as she tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. She frequently sought to meditate after a performance and intense rehearsals. They calmed her immensely. And as she allowed her director's voice to seep into her ears, but not her mind, she slowly let a soft wave of peace pass over her. To be completely at peace, in balance with her sanity was something she had been yearning for for weeks. Stress from rehearsals and the near futile attempt to erase past memories from her mind seemed to seep from her very skin. The only way to cleanse herself these days were clear moments like these. They slowly began to heal her, but they were also easily snatched away from her. The growing crescendo of Alexandra's voice finally broke through Sarah's meditation.

"…He was very much impressed and wants to meet the entire cast later this evening."

Sebastian was still leaning on Sarah's vanity, and he immediately brightened at Alexandra's announcement. "Oh, this could be perfect! I could plug my new one-man show at the Saroyan Theater!"

Alexandra turned to him and narrowed her eyes. "As much as I would love for you to go plug yourself, Sebastian, this is not the time. Do not embarrass me."

Sebastian shrugged indifferently, but the director continued to glare at him as she made her way over to Sarah's station. Sarah had been ignoring their little banter; but when the director remained at her station and Sebastian had left, she stopped what she was doing and looked up.

"Sarah," Alexandra said, "leave some jewelry on, but not so much stage makeup."

"Why?"

"Bruce Wayne wants to meet you first."

Sarah stared, wide-eyed. "Why?"

Alexandra clucked her tongue impatiently and made a face. "Would you just do as you're told? And be nice, he's the reason we're here."

Sarah fingered the low collar of her blouse. "I'm hardly dressed for such an introduction, Alex."

Alexandra grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "Get up. He just wants to meet you."

"But…" Sarah couldn't form a cohesive refusal as she was nearly yanked out of her chair and pulled out of the backstage room. "But what do I say to him?"

"I thought you were the actress," Alexandra remarked dryly. "Don't worry about it!"

Sarah tilted her head; the name suddenly began to sound familiar. Bruce Wayne… yes, she had heard the name before. He was the wealthy philanthropist who commissioned the theater to be built… but something else besides this. Had she heard of him before on the news? On TV, or maybe the paper? The newspaper, that was it! She remembered seeing his name in the Daily Planet ages ago, it seemed. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, suddenly realizing why he was in the newspaper in the first place.

"Wait… wait, Alex. Didn't he burn his house down? After he got drunk?"

Alexandra sighed and pulled Sarah back, forcing her to walk again. "Look, I don't care what he does. I don't care if he has a harem in the basement, or burns his house to the ground, or any other kind of back door shenanigan he's got going on. Just let him talk to you for Chrissakes! Sarah, it is opening night for the company at this opulent monstrosity they call a theater…"

Sarah looked up and around her, almost admiringly. "I think it looks nice. I mean, he did put a lot of work, er, money into this."

"Exactly. Which is why, as the star of the show, you're going to give thanks to the almighty, on behalf of the entire cast and crew."

Sarah stopped again. "What?"

Alexandra was truly growing impatient with her now. She pulled her back and held her arm as they marched through the grand hallways of the theater. "Get it together, Sarah. You just performed in front of a thousand people. What the hell is so terrifying about spending five minutes with one man?"

"_Oh, I don't know… only the reputation of the entire company._" Sarah wouldn't dare say these words out loud. Alexandra was quickly turning into the critical and harsh director of her company. _"The problem with first impressions is that you only get one… don't screw this up, Sarah." _With that thought in mind, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, walking now with purpose. Alexandra noticed her change in demeanor, but said nothing, only glanced at her approvingly.

They both entered the lobby almost regally – the glamorous star of the show and the highly respected director of the company. The golden Greek nymphs and cherubs that floated high above Sarah glowed resplendently in the bright lights of the crystal chandeliers hovering beside them. Sarah glanced up briefly. She always thought it amusing that the angels and nymphs were greeting her every time she walked in. Even though the distinct power of her crystal diamond had long faded, her perception and vision of the world around her remained illuminated in every sense. She sighed deeply as she passed through the lobby – the gilded replica of a baroque palace. The sight of its sumptuous luxury and the chatter of the glamorous elite managed to overwhelm her senses.

Alexandra grasped Sarah's arm again as they approached a small group of people dressed in their finest at the foot of the magnificent Grand Staircase. Sarah was sure her director held onto her for fear that she may run away. But she was not about to run or even stutter. She was determined to present herself in a dignified and professional manner, despite her apprehension. Two men and a woman were demurely chatting with a couple, both of their backs to Sarah and Alexandra. They both stopped and politely waited for their conversation to stop. An older man with thinning, white hair finally noticed their presence and beamed at Sarah.

"Ah, and here is the stunning prodigy we have heard so much about!"

Sarah blushed at the unexpected compliment and managed a broad smile. She inclined her head to the small group. "Thank you very much."

The older man stole the man who had his back turned to Sarah and cleared his throat. "Bruce, this is the Sarah Williams that you're so eager to meet."

Sarah thought she had prepared herself for this meeting. It would be the same as any other. She would express her gratitude, chat with several pretentious people for a few minutes, and then politely excuse herself. But nothing prepared her for this.

The man who requested to meet her, the man named Bruce Wayne who paid for this theater and gave her the opportunity to work in an atmosphere akin to that of a fairytale palace, and coincidentally burned his mansion to the ground, was the man who caught her eye during curtain call.

Her breath caught as those eyes of his burned through her. If there was one moment when she wished she would not have this heightened sense of perception, she wished it were now. His gaze was powerfully intense, but his demeanor and his smile were anything but.

Bruce Wayne flashed Sarah a charming smile. "Sarah Williams, very nice to meet you." He extended his hand to her and she accepted it demurely with a slight nod of the head. "I enjoyed your performance this evening. You're a very talented actress and even more beautiful up close without those awful stage lights."

A bit taken aback, Sarah fought the urge to tuck her hair behind her ears – her one nervous habit. "Thank you, I'm very glad you enjoyed it."

He smiled at her again, that teasing, all-masculine charm he exuded so well. Sarah knew why he was one of the most powerful men in the city, the country even. It was not just the money or the status, Bruce Wayne had a great deal of natural charisma in him. All of his gestures, his speech, his very presence breathed power and commanded attention. And she was keenly aware of his embarrassment when his very blonde date turned around and clung to him almost desperately.

"I'm Shanna," she said with barely hidden conceit. She did not even extend a hand, only clutched Bruce's arm as if he would leave her behind at any moment. But Sarah noticed that he was uncomfortable with the way Shanna was looking her nose down at her. As if she were the competition.

Sarah was in no mood to be sized up and silently looked down upon by a complete stranger. She never got along well with blondes in the past anyway. But Alexandra caught the insensitive tone in Shanna's voice and sidled up to Sarah.

"Miss Williams is our youngest actress and by far the most promising." Alexandra beamed at Bruce, trying to keep the conversation light. Sarah glanced at Bruce to find a coy closed-mouth grin that showed only at the corners of his upturned mouth. He really was very handsome, and his straightforward confidence only added to his allure... but there was something else about him. Something hidden, and perhaps dark. Sarah could sense it, and it made her somewhat uneasy.

"Really?" he asked, his voice deep and husky. "Am I allowed to ask how old you are?" His eyes wouldn't break contact with Sarah's.

"I'm about to turn 24, Mr. Wayne," she responded politely.

"Please," he drawled. "Call me Bruce."

Alexandra shifted her feet, silently confiding in Sarah that she should do no such thing. This meeting should remain professional, and the patron and those who worked under his theater were to be kept in completely formal relations. Sarah caught her director's message, but was also left with the dilemma of calling him Bruce based on his preference and calling him Mr. Wayne based on common protocol. Yet, they had only just met only exchanging a few words, and he already wanted her to call him Bruce. Sarah had to admit that despite how attractive Bruce was, it did seem a bit too soon to ask her to call him by first name so informally. Especially if his date was here, desperate for his attentions as she was, to ask another beautiful woman something like how old she was and then his request to call him by first name… It was as Sarah expected. He was very arrogant and equally pretentious. She sighed inwardly. Were there no men out in the world who were not so completely and absolutely into themselves? There had been one man, but he was so far from Gotham now…

Sarah had become lost in her thoughts for a moment, and she unwittingly let her eyes wander over Bruce. But he caught her assessing him, and responded by giving her an amused grin. Shanna simply glared at her. Sarah blushed, and she could have sworn Bruce's smile had grown wider. "Um," Sarah glanced up toward the ceiling, "this theater is absolutely beautiful. You've done a wonderful job…" Damn. She tried initiating another conversation without using his name, but became caught once again by her own accord. With a slight smile, she let her words stand, but not without tucking her hair behind her ears.

Bruce's smile did grow wider this time, and as their eyes met again, Sarah could see the depths of his dark eyes. They were beautiful, but they were not the piercing blue or the all-too familiar mismatched orbs of color she had seen once before. They were a cold, rough sea of grey.

"Would you ladies care to join us for drinks in the rotunda?" Bruce offered gallantly. "They revealed it just this morning and I haven't quite taken the time to appreciate the craftsmanship yet." He stared at Sarah. "Perhaps you'd like to see it for yourself?"

Sarah blinked and opened her mouth to politely decline. "Oh, I'd…" Alexandra gently but firmly nudged her lower back. "…love to." She was a great actress, but her director somehow always knew when she was only acting the part.

"Great!" Bruce casually took Shanna's hand and swept it off his arm as he turned to tell the rest of the small group that they were moving into the rotunda. Sarah took this opportunity to cast a reproachful sideways glance at Alexandra. Alexandra shrugged and squeezed Sarah's elbow reassuringly. Sarah sighed again and lifted her chin, smiling sweetly when Bruce turned back.

"Shall we?" Bruce extended a gracious hand before him. Sarah only inclined her head to him and proceeded to glide as gracefully as she could across the marble floors. Bruce languidly met her stride as Alexandra pulled Shanna aside to distract her as they ambled across the sumptuous expanse of the theater.

"So finally I meet the beautiful and talented Sarah Williams," Bruce said as they walked across the floor. "I do remember hearing of your training at the Academy in Metropolis."

Sarah smiled slightly but couldn't stop the small ache in heart. "Yes, I was fortunate enough to stay in Metropolis for a year."

A sly smile played on Bruce's lips. "And what do you think of Gotham City?"

"_It's not Metropolis, that's for damn sure…"_ Sarah smiled up again at Bruce. "It's very different from Metropolis, but this city has also given me a great opportunity to pursue my acting, so I really can't say anything bad about Gotham."

"But is the city to your liking?"

Sarah had to keep in mind that she was talking to one of Gotham's elite, someone who practically owned the city. She didn't know much about his past or about his family but she knew Bruce was trying to make the effort to rebuild his city.

"I do like Gotham City…" she paused, should she call him Bruce or Mr. Wayne? Damn... Her mouth remained slightly open, looking for the right name. Bruce was watching her expectantly, a devilish glimmer in his eyes as he gazed down at a very nervous Sarah. Damn him, he seemed to be enjoying her discomfort… "From what I've heard, it has come a long way from what it used to be and I can only imagine what the city has yet to accomplish."

Bruce nodded absently. "My father started several projects that would increase the prosperity of Gotham, and I only want to continue what he set out to do."

"Oh, but didn't your father also begin Wayne Enterprises?" Sarah mused. "And you still own…?" her voice began to trail off as she remembered Bruce Wayne also owned one of the most powerful, not to mention most wealthy corporations in the world. He was an influential power player in the world of international economics and sometimes world politics. She needed to have a care with whom she was talking so casually to. Although, Bruce really didn't seem to mind. Perhaps he was so used to women fawning all over him, and it was actually a breath of fresh air to have Sarah not screaming for his attentions.

"I do my best." Bruce smiled that same coy, self-assured smile before he pressed a strong hand into the small of her back as he pulled the door of the rotunda open for her.

Sarah smiled nervously and lowered her gaze at the touch. She let Bruce open the door for her before she stepped inside, her footsteps echoing in this small corner of the theater. The lights were already casting a warm glow throughout the room and reflected beautifully against the glass dome of the ceiling.

Suddenly, she felt her breath leave her trembling body. Her heart sped and her blood ran cold. Something strange, and yet so familiar was passing over her. She clutched the hem of her blouse as she stepped into the center of the room. This was her first time inside the rotunda, and now she wished she never stepped foot in here. She became totally unaware of the fact that there was a small group of people just behind her. She was alone, alone with this terrible wave of sick energy that passed all around her and even crawling over her cold skin.

She looked down and stared at the brilliant mosaic of the sun and the crescent moon, overlapping and interlacing with one another. The sun and the moon. Superman and Jareth. It lay before her as flashes of a dream she had had months before, flew through her head. Someone knew... someone did know what this meant. She could gaze upon the memory no longer and tilted her head up to the ceiling above her. But her eyes could not leave the horrid sight that greeted her.

Surrounding her on all sides were tapestries of goblins. Goblins she had seen years before and even sooner than she'd care to remember. There were four tapestries on all sides of her, but they were swarming with the little creatures she knew of all too well. They seemed to be calling to her as they leered at each other, signaling, racing, running and leaping with their knobby, scrawny legs. Her vision became blurry as she saw more puffing out their cheeks, pulling their wry faces, clapping and crowing and falling all over themselves. She could almost hear their cavorting and their clucking, their shrill laughter as they danced, and their hushed voices as they whispered secrets to each other.

Her balance began to shift, the room around her was spinning as the chattering became more insistent. The air was thin but she felt herself swimming in air thick as honey. Everything came crashing down upon her as some stared at her, winked at her, trying to charm her with their bizarre play. But her eyes stopped at one standing primly in the center of it all weaving a crown of leaves and flowers. A crown for a Queen.

The laughter and their ridiculous prattle suddenly stopped. She clutched her diamond when she could take no more. The only sound she heard now was her own heart, beating like a heavy drum against an open, empty plain.

With one sigh, the goblins disappeared and she was left with darkness.

* * *

**AN: **My sincere apologies for not updating sooner. I was in Mexico for a while and then one thing after another came up... I'm sorry FireShifter. Many thanks for the congrats on the recent graduation too! I hope the next update won't take this long. And thank you so much for almost 50 reviews so far. Wow, I'm almost afraid to update sometimes. There is a lot more to live up to since it is a sequel and because Batman is the more popular DC hero. But I will try my best...

Shalom y Amor


	4. Watching Sarah

Sarah could hear the wind rushing past her ears, felt it run over and into her long hair, over her skin. She opened her eyes to find herself flying over a blanket of clouds, facing the setting sun in the horizon. The sky surrounded her and the thick cover of clouds enveloped her as she flew on. She didn't look to her side, she knew she was alone. But she was not afraid. She glided down and swept past a low cloud, but as she did her lack of fear turned into an empty ache of loneliness. She let herself spread her arms and reach out for anything that she might think was familiar. A ripple of a cape… or the soft graze of leather. She felt nothing.

But she suddenly felt a pull from down below her, and she lost her breath when she felt something grab her and drag her downward. Startled, she looked down to find the surface of a midnight blue sea. She panicked now. Her arms flailed remembering something similar to this… no, not again. She couldn't go through that again. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. But just before she hit the surface, her body suddenly stopped and hovered just above the water. She didn't want to be here so close to the deep sea. She tried willing herself to fly again but it was a near futile effort. Her body jerked upward again violently against her will. From higher up and through tear-stained eyes, she could barely make out the shore. And it was there that she was pulled toward.

Twisting and slinking across the sky, through low clouds and around craggy rocks, she let the magnetic pull drag her to the cliffs of the sea. The sheer cliffs then opened revealing a dark cave, threatening to swallow her if she got too close. But her body wouldn't stop, it continued toward the cave at a sickening speed. She covered her head with her arms as she was sucked into the black and then finally heard the thundering boom of the sheer walls of the cliff trapping her inside.

She fell into nothingness...

She closed her eyes and her body began to still. She could finally feel herself floating calmly before she opened her eyes again. A cold sweat broke over her as the image of the Goblin King appeared before her. A flash of a memory, a deep pain in her chest before the image blurred and her eyes began to adjust to the light.

Bruce Wayne gazed down upon her, locking eyes with hers. His handsome brow creased with worry.

So much for a first impression.

"Here," Alexandra handed her a glass of water. "Just sip it."

Sarah took the cup with a shaky hand and did as Alexandra told her. She took several sips of water before taking a deep breath and settling back into the settee. After a few moments, she threw her arm over her face and sighed again.

"I can't believe I fainted…"

"You didn't faint," Alexandra pointed out. "You swooned into Bruce Wayne's arms."

Sarah could hear the sharp amusement in her director's voice, but it didn't brighten her mood. She threw her arm back down and turned her gaze to Alexandra.

"Did I at least entertain and amuse him, like you told me to?"

"I didn't say that. I just said make a good impression on behalf of the company, and I think you did." She smirked just slightly.

"Oh really?"

"He carried you all the way backstage, didn't he?"

"It only seemed like the polite thing to do... how long was I out for?"

"At least twenty minutes."

"Geez…" Sarah rubbed her neck, wincing. "Some impression I made…"

"No," Alexandra's voice became firm. "I really think he was quite impressed with you, and I think it was good of him to carry you back here…"

"He could have called an ambulance."

"You only fainted."

"I swooned, remember?"

Alexandra sighed and crossed her arms, settling in to the opposite corner of Sarah's settee. "Well, I think if you did hit your head on that marble floor then it would have been reason to call an ambulance. But you didn't. I think you covered yourself nicely…"

"What? By telling him too much excitement, stress on opening night, not enough air in that rotunda? Which, by the way I'm never setting foot in again."

"No arguments here. It is a little out of place. I wonder why Bruce wanted tapestries of goblins up?"

Sarah was silent for a moment, staring away from Alexandra, lost in her thoughts. "It wasn't Bruce…" she mumbled under her breath.

"What?"

Sarah mentally shook herself. "Nothing," she replied, smiling weakly.

Alexandra patted her knee gently before rising. "You need your rest. I'll have someone walk you back home."

"Thanks, Alex," she murmured, smiling appreciatively at her director.

"Get some rest. We have another show tomorrow night." Alexandra began to leave the room, but stopped after she opened the door. "By the way, he's going to call tomorrow just to check in on you."

Sarah sat up slowly. "Who?"

Alexandra smirked again. "Your knight in shining armor, of course."

Sarah turned away and murmured a 'good night' to her director. She heard the door click followed by soft footsteps fading down the hallway.

There were just so many things wrong with what her company director had just said. Bruce Wayne was in no way her knight. Apparently she made an impression on him, despite the fact that she fainted into his arms… she squirmed in embarrassment at the irony of it all. But he did not make a good one on her. He was very handsome and charming, she had to admit that. But it seemed as if he were putting on an act the whole time, as if he were a façade to the public eye.

More than anything, it was his eyes that unsettled her. On the one hand she was attracted to them, but on the other they filled her with suspicion. She had already felt Bruce's gaze on her body, and she did not care for it. They were eyes not to be trusted.

If they were eyes like the stunning sapphires she once knew, then it may have been different. Superman was the only person she knew to be close enough to her idea of a knight. And the one man she fell in love with, could never be what she wanted. Even he knew he couldn't change that if he wanted to. It was his nature, his very being to exist as a cruel, conceited King. It was him in the first place that dashed her hopes and dreams of a perfect knight coming to take her away from her evil stepmother and oppressive childhood home. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise… to have her come to terms with reality.

Jareth was certainly not the ideal knight… just as Bruce was not, as well.

She sighed again, trying to dispel the knot in her chest. She stood and stretched, arching her back to wear out the cramps. Just as she tossed her cup aside, two members of her company walked into the room. Jonathan and Lucine just became engaged last month and were virtually attached at the hip. They were an attractive couple and always so attentive to each other. Sarah had to suppress a wince every time she saw them and how happy they were together.

"Hey," Sarah said softly. "Come to walk me home?"

"Sure thing," Jonathan said, tucking his hand into Lucine's backside pocket.

"Great…" Sarah tried not to sound disheartened. This was going to be a long walk, train ride, followed by another walk back home.

* * *

Sarah lay curled on her bed, facing the small window of her bedroom that had once been occupied with more cavorting strangers than she would like to imagine. She could see no city shining in orange and white lights, no silhouettes of buildings and several skyscrapers that rose into the night sky. She only saw the faint glow from the city beyond the courtyard.

Her pillow had become damp with her tears over the past few hours. She felt and feared that tears would become her life.

Jareth knew she was here in Gotham, he knew she was at the theater. Now the theater had become a constant reminder of his presence and of their past. All of that grandeur, the wealth, the fairy-tale palace… he did that all for her. The whole damned thing was a reminder that he was still alive, that he still watched her, that he still wanted her.

But why hadn't he come for her?

She didn't want him to, that was why. After what he did… it was simply unforgivable. But he never once came to her begging for forgiveness. It was simply not him, and that broke her heart. How could she love a truly heartless being? She simply couldn't understand it. She remembered the night she banished her only love with those words. The power that still lay dormant within her, the one that had heightened her senses; that which rose and gave fire to those words.

Perhaps now he enjoyed seeing her heart suffering. Suffering caused by her cruel and empty days without love. Now, each time her tears ran they wiped off any hope left in him.

Yet, how could she move on if she was reminded of his presence everyday? Living like this would only serve to leave her confused, worried, and tried every night such as this one. It wasn't fair that she live like this, and he was teasing her, playing with her until she finally gave in to him. If this was the case, then it wasn't going to be easy. She had to keep fighting for her self-determination, her sanity.

She threw her pillow aside and rested her weary head on the bare sheet. She had had a long day, and now she prayed for a long, dreamless sleep. This time, her one prayer was answered.

* * *

The next morning, Sarah woke groggy with aches all over her body. She may have had a dreamless sleep, but she stayed in one curled position all night long. She would have loved to sleep in but the added stress of another performance was weighing heavily on her mind. She needed to focus and be rid of all other thoughts in her mind before tonight. The theater was certainly not the best place to do it, especially with that rotunda inside the building. But if she stayed with people of the company backstage and in the green room until performance time, perhaps then she could get through her day smoothly.

She showered and dressed warmly before walking out into the chilly, early spring morning. Gotham City was much colder than Metropolis had been. Yet, apart from Metropolis, Sarah found it intriguing that the city also had its own unique architectural style as well. Art critics around the world praised the 'Gotham Style' reflecting the artistic Gothic Revival, clearly seen in the massive multi-tiered flying buttresses on cathedrals or the Art Deco and Art Nouveau statuary seen on nearly every building in the financial district. Gotham's old Art-deco and Gothic structures were complete with its famous elevated train tracks, skyline, and subterranean streets.

Despite this artistic endeavor and the sharp rise in its economy, Sarah still readily admitted that Gotham was a dark, gritty, and raw city. She would always see Metropolis as clean, warm, and wealthy.

She ran into the nearby café to grab a cup of coffee, but before she walked out the door she stopped, her eyes catching a copy of the Daily Planet that had been strewn aside. The Daily Planet was just one of the many national newspapers this café carried. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the headline. "National Crime Rate Increases" followed by "Dramatic Spike Due to Superman's Absence?"

She picked up the paper and began to skim through the article. Metropolis certainly was experiencing an increase in crime, yet Gotham City was not surprisingly encountering a decrease. Never in twenty years would critics have thought that Gotham would be the city to see a reduction in crime. The Batman must be doing his job. Nonetheless, she silently thanked God that she had never run into him as she had with Superman. Just looking at his pictures alone made him the opposite of Superman's appearance. Despite the fact he fought and believed in the same things Superman did.

Who the hell dresses up as a bat, anyway? Why dress up as a bat? But apparently, the Lieutenant of Gotham City trusted him. Perhaps he couldn't be that bad. However, there were still some very crooked cops in the city. But reading the few articles she skimmed through now and again, she learned about how he had served up a few crime-bosses and organized crime leaders. That _was_ commendable. Thinking more about it though, Sarah realized she just didn't get it. Why not just join the police force? Why become a vigilante? Why the elaborate get-up? What would be so important that someone would have to go to such great lengths to hide his identity?

Finally, Sarah sighed inwardly and tossed the paper back down. She took a small sip of her coffee and scanned over the rest of the papers stacked on the small corner table. The Gotham Globe had a large picture of Superman on the front cover. The headline read in bold letters, "Is He Coming Back?" – "Nine Months and Counting: Superman Still a No Show". She didn't reach down to pick it up. She only tilted her head and gazed at his picture. Had it already been nine months? It seemed like years ago. Nine months of loneliness, of tears, of possible regrets… She gingerly grazed her diamond pendant with the tip of her fingers.

As she finally left the café, she wondered if she were the only one who felt this way. If perhaps far away Superman felt the same regrets and isolation. Or if someone who was constantly in the shadows watching her also felt the same…

* * *

Sarah took the train ride down to Grand Avenue and went around the back of the theater to the company lounge. She made sure to busy herself the entire day with vocal warm-ups, costume cleanings, reading lines, and the occasional gossip with members of her company. They all filed in throughout the day, one by one and sometimes in groups. By the time the late afternoon fell, the green room, the lounge, and the entire backstage was bustling with excitement for another performance.

Sarah dressed, stretched out her body, and readied herself to transform into another person. At times, she amazed herself at how easily she could transition from Sarah Williams into someone who was completely different. Before long, she was doing another curtain call with the rest of her cast mates. The velvet curtains closed and just as the heavy fabric collapsed into each other, Sarah and her fellow actors exhaled tired sighs and exchanged smiles and hugs with each other. They all made their way backstage at their appointed stations and began to remove their makeup and change out of their costumes.

Sarah had just settled into her vanity after changing and began to remove her jewelry. A tall middle-aged man with dirty blonde hair came up to her vanity.

"Hi, Connor," Sarah said with a smile.

"Hey, Sarah. Good job tonight," her cast mate said nonchalantly.

"What's up?" She took off her heavy necklace and rolled back her shoulders.

"Someone's here to see you."

Sarah stopped what she was doing and looked up at Connor with wary eyes. "Who?"

"Not sure. Might be one of your many die hard fans."

Sarah rose from her seat slowly. "What does he look like?"

Connor shrugged indifferently. "Tall, brown hair, nicely dressed. He looked rich to me… a little snobby too, now that I think about it."

Sarah sighed, wrinkling her nose. It was Bruce. But why come back here? She only fainted…

"Damn…" she murmured under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, trying to pull herself together. "Connor, do you think you could…"

"Go with you? Not a chance." He backed away and held his hands up. "I'm not involved in this at all; I just came in to tell you he's waiting for you in the lounge."

"Connor! There's nothing to get involved in!"

"Well, you _did_ pass out…" his voice trailed, giving her the benefit of the doubt, but for only a second. "But most of us saw it. As soon as we saw him carry you in, that was it, it was over."

"What?" she nearly yelled incredulously. "What was over?"

"Nothing. Look, just go in there. He's been waiting for almost ten minutes!" He turned to walk away but mumbled something audible for her ears. Something like, 'Alexandra was right. You're as stubborn as a mule…'

"Hey!" she called after him, but to no avail. Connor was long gone, washing his hands of the whole thing. She wanted to stamp her foot but ended up sagging her shoulders and drooping her head in one exasperated motion.

There was really no getting out of this; she had to see him. No one was willing to lie to Bruce Wayne, especially not Alexandra. Admitting defeat with a sigh, she left the backstage area and slowly walked down the hallway to the lounge. She knew no one else was going to be there. Just him and her alone in one room. The thought did not appeal to her at all. But of course this was all very amusing to the rest of the company. Except for maybe Sebastian. He had been trying to go out with her for weeks, but to no avail. The thought that Bruce Wayne was trying to pursue her was probably not sitting very well with him.

The door to the lounge was open just slightly. She stopped before entering and cleared her throat. She shook out her hands and composed herself; she didn't want him to see her so put off like this. She pushed open the door hesitantly and stepped inside. On the far side of the room with his back turned to her was Bruce, looking over the pictures of the company and of old photographs of the previous theater halls of Gotham City.

Sarah never noticed the décor of this room until now. A plush cream colored carpet covered the floor, smooth, wooden oak panels served as the molding of the room, while the entire lounge was painted a warm eggshell color. It wasn't too bright in here despite the near all-white color; it was actually quite comfortable. But this moment seemed very far from that.

Sarah clasped her hands behind her back. "Hello, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce turned at the sound of her voice. His face brightened and a cool smile grew on his full lips. "Sarah." He walked around the settee he had been standing behind. "I'm glad to see you're up and walking."

Sarah smiled, but she inwardly winced at calling her by first name. She knew he wanted to be called Bruce, but that wasn't going to happen. Not this soon. He should have a care as well. She eyed him closely, suspiciously. He still looked every bit the role of billionaire. He was dressed superbly in a crisp blue suit, hair slightly combed back, and still had that air about him.

"I only fainted…" she replied, walking slowly into the room. "Too much excitement, I think. But thank you for bringing me back here."

Bruce waved it aside. "It was really nothing." He reached down and picked something up from the corner of the settee. "I wanted to bring you something; a little get well gift."

His little get well gift was a stunning bouquet of pink roses, orchids, and sprays of lavender. Sarah's mouth nearly fell open; her face drawn in shock.

"I hope you like them," Bruce said with a smile. He handed the flowers over to Sarah with smooth grace, which she took with hesitant yet open arms.

The first thought that ran through her mind, besides the fact that these flowers were absolutely exquisite, was why waste his time with her? Someone like him should be doing other things, more important things than bringing her flowers. Nevertheless, she brought the flowers to her face, slowly inhaling their sweet aroma.

"Listen," he said, "I really want to apologize about last night. Shanna's behavior was just unacceptable."

After a moment, she finally found her voice. "Oh… no, you really don't have to apologize for her."

Bruce didn't respond. He kept his gaze to her, with that same self-assured, and admittedly dashing smile.

"Um," she mumbled, trying to break the awkward silence. "These flowers are just beautiful. You really didn't have to, Mr. Wayne."

He grimaced at the sound of his last name. "I thought we agreed that you call me Bruce." His expression was that of mock annoyance. "My last name is used in a purely professional setting."

She stared at him blankly. "Yes, Mr. Wayne..." Then, realizing her mistake, she shook her head. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You know, I really don't think I could call you by your first name. I mean, I don't even know you and when you really think about it, you happen to be my boss."

He cocked his head to the side. "How so?"

"The fact that you practically own this theater that I work under is reason enough. Reason enough, I mean, to make this a purely professional setting." She almost bit her own tongue. She realized too late that she had used his own words against him.

But he only smirked playfully. He seemed to like a woman with a fiery spirit, a woman who would talk back to him. "Then how about this?" He paused for a moment, collecting his words. "Would you care to come to dinner with me, perhaps during the week? Or lunch even?"

She had to fight to keep her mouth from dropping open again. The flowers were suddenly beginning to get very heavy.

"Excuse…" Wrinkling her brow, she quickly apologized. "Sorry, dinner?"

"Or lunch, whichever you prefer," he replied nonchalantly.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea either."

Of course it wasn't. Who was he kidding? If she refused to call him by his first name, she certainly was not going out on a date with him. It was bad enough rumors were starting to fly around the theater. Her director would be outraged if she knew she accepted a date, a real date with Bruce Wayne. No matter how much she teased her last night. Sarah knew when to have a good laugh about it with Alexandra and where to draw the line when it came to these kinds of things. Although on the one hand, when was the last time she went out on a real date, with a billionaire no less.

But Bruce only laughed at her answer, causing her to frown, unsure of how to read his response. Even more reason to turn down his offer. Yet, the urge to quiet her loneliness was quickly blurring her reasoning.

"It'll be fine," he said after realizing he was hurting his chances of acquiring a potential rendezvous with Sarah. "Just a casual meeting."

Well, she couldn't deny that she really wouldn't mind it. Okay, she _really_ wouldn't mind at all to dine in an expensive, outlandish restaurant. But the alarm bells were ringing. Not only did she still not completely trust Bruce, but she could already hear the sound of gossip being spread throughout the company.

And it was only her second day of performance. What a reputation she'd have. It was simply too soon, and the flowers had already been enough.

"You know," she said, looking away. "I really wouldn't mind it, but I just don't think that is such a great idea."

He nodded at her. "You're sure?"

She nodded in response.

But this clearly did not deter Bruce. "Would you care to sit with me for a few minutes?" He motioned for her sit on the settee like a true gentleman.

Sarah eyed him warily. He did somewhat genuine in his interest in her but there was still that arrogance in him that Sarah could not bring herself to come to terms with. Perhaps he was deeply insecure and needed that air of confidence to survive in his world. Or perhaps his emotional instabilities ran much deeper than that…

But when it came right down to it, this was Bruce Wayne. She may have a somewhat strong personality but she didn't think she had the gall or the impertinence to walk away now. Especially if he hadn't really done anything to really offend her. She felt safe enough in small talk.

"Um…" Yes, she mentally noted that she didn't have the sass to pull off a good walk off. She struggled with the massive bouquet of flowers as she huddled up against the settee. She pretended not to notice the smirk on his face when he took the flowers and placed them on the other side. He casually settled down next her and draped an arm on the back of the settee.

"You have a natural gift for the stage," he spoke in a playful tone. "What's your secret?"

Sarah tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think I've just come across a lot of inspiration thus far."

Bruce could clearly hear the tension in her voice. He shifted in his seat. "I can go if you're uncomfortable."

Sarah turned her head to look him in the face. "No," she replied coolly, "you can stay."

He smiled again. If she didn't know any better that smile would have trapped her in; hook, line, and sinker. But she did know better.

"Good," he said, shifting more comfortably again. "Because I would love to hear about it all someday; your inspiration, I mean."

Sarah lifted her chin and smiled slightly. "Just not tonight." The tone in her voice suggested she knew Bruce was attempting for a date again.

Bruce shrugged. "You're a true talent. I think with all the inspiration you've encountered it would take a lot longer than the time we have now to hear about it all."

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you everything?" She spoke in low, musical tones. One would have had to listen very closely to notice the slight tremor in her voice.

Bruce cocked his head and gazed intently at her. She returned his gaze, her eyes gleaming green and gold. But finally Sarah smiled and turned away, unable to hide the blush in her cheeks. _Why_ was he so handsome?

Bruce didn't have a chance to respond. Something in his pocket went off. He reached down and pulled a little black device out. He furrowed his eyebrows as he clicked through several small buttons then finally shoved it back into his pocket.

"I apologize for that," he rose and walked back around the settee to grab his jacket. "I'm afraid I have to run. No rest for the wicked." He smiled teasingly at the remark, but Sarah only managed a small, half-smile.

"If you would like," he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet and took one business card in one swift motion. "Here is my card. Please feel free to call me or better yet, stop by for a visit at anytime."

Sarah took the card and glanced at it. A crisp white card with the Wayne Tower logo hovered at the top with his name, title, and numbers placed strategically at the bottom. "Aren't you busy?" she asked without looking up. "I mean, you do run the company…"

Bruce waved it aside again. "Think nothing of it. I would very much enjoy seeing you again." Sarah looked up and opened her mouth to argue, but Bruce was already hurrying out of the room. "I apologize again, but I really have to go. Have a good night, Sarah." He winked at her then, still smiling, before he walked out the door.

Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed, completely exasperated. This one was really something else. Was a billionaire really trying to court her? Of course he was, he was Bruce Wayne. But she remembered the last time someone took an interest in her. He didn't have a chance against the Goblin King. And Bruce was human. No, she couldn't do that to Bruce. Who knows what could happen to him. Jareth certainly was the jealous type and she didn't want to do anything she might regret later.

She turned her body and threw herself down on the cushions with an audible groan. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. She always wanted men to fight over her when she was a little girl, but had no idea how dangerous this may turn out to be…

* * *

Bruce Wayne was a man of principle. Despite what people actually thought of him, he believed in justice and balance. This lifted him, gave him stature, even thrilled him to certain extents. Standing among people who were as fake as he were only caused him agitation and annoyance. He thought that perhaps meeting the actress of the play would become a nice distraction. Yet, as he stood under the glow of a thousand lights of the theater, he began to grow impatient. The urge to leave and take care of more important business was beginning to gnaw into his brain. A few more minutes and he would have to leave. There was only so much he could take.

But when his eyes met Sarah's for the first time, every little thought and nerve that was pushing him to leave the theater suddenly left him. The warm light in the enormous lobby suddenly became absolutely magical for him as it enlightened Sarah's ivory form. Illumination from all sides, all corners of the theater became brighter, and he was dazzled by the reflection of the light in Sarah's eyes.

Bruce had to turn away from her gaze for only a moment. His idea of justice while wearing a mask of indifference and pride lifted him, but Sarah's eyes returned him to reality, to the flesh, to desire, and he did not want the brilliance in her eyes to shatter the role he played as egotistical playboy so well. He was in the midst of playing his character-and an undertaking that he had to respect and to make others respect. His own attraction to women was, however, uncontrollable and it was one of the few upsides of the part of billionaire playboy.

Yet, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes from wandering all over Sarah. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, but there was something striking about her. She had the midnight black hair, sparkling green eyes, and porcelain skin. Although she wasn't at all stick thin like the models he was used to dating. She was pleasingly curvaceous, her hair fell in full, messy waves, she radiated a soothing warmth he had never noticed in any of the other women he ever took out.

At one point, he started to feel awkwardly nervous. Nervous? He never felt nervous.

But Sarah stood out from the other women in every way. She walked with assurance, confidence, and radiant elegance. She didn't vie for his attention based on his looks, his charm, or his checkbook. And when she didn't get caught up in Shanna's rude and unnecessary display… clutching to his arm like a lost puppy and then looking down on Sarah like that… needless to say his respect for Sarah went through the roof.

Perhaps he could talk to Sarah in a more intimate setting without having his blonde companion falling all over him. The rotunda seemed like the perfect place. It was small and an easy place to strike a conversation. He rather liked the mosaic of the sun and the moon and the glass-domed ceiling. But the goblins… he would have to have a long talk with whoever decorated the rotunda.

Having Sarah fall into his arms unconscious was not quite how he had envisioned their evening to begin. Not that he wouldn't love to have her swoon into his arms; but this was a woman he would love to chase, someone he wouldn't mind charming while she played hard to get. It may have been well worth it. But as her body slumped against him and he held her with both arms, catching her before she fell to the marble floor, he felt a strange yet compelling urge of protection for Sarah. Yes, this woman was certainly different from the rest.

As what he was now, as Batman, Sarah was another citizen of the city he needed to watch over. As of right now, Sarah was far from the thoughts of Bruce Wayne. She was a young woman who decided to walk home alone tonight. Gotham City was not a place for women like her to be alone. Admittedly, he did linger here after her first performance, but only to make sure she had an escort home. She needed one after collapsing.

He remained completely still. He didn't move an inch. He became one with the shadows, and the shadows became one with him. He looked up briefly, his dark eyes narrowing at the same sight he saw last night. A white barn owl perched solemnly only a few yards from where he crouched in the high shadows of the theater hall. The owl seemed to watch Sarah too, and when she disappeared from sight, so did the owl. He thought it strange, but it was ridiculous to think the owl was watching a human. Perhaps the owl had a nest somewhere in the city or it had lost its way from the forests outside of the city on the Wayne Manor property.

He finally looked away, watching for Sarah. He had gotten nothing else so far. This was his only task tonight – to see her safely home. Silently, swiftly, he jumped from the high ledge for a lower, better vantage point. He would ignore the owl for now. It was just a bird anyway.

* * *


	5. Obsidian

Grabbing her coat, Sarah made every effort to avoid any of her cast members, especially Alexandra and Sebastian. One would be scolding her for trying to take a cab alone at night, and one would try his damndest to be the one to walk her home, and then some…

She never went home by herself in Gotham before, but she really didn't want to wait to around here anymore. She wanted to be at home in her bed; alone again in her bed. She felt as if she were always alone now, despite the amount of people she surrounded herself with everyday. She didn't tell anyone she was leaving and no one asked if she was going their way. She simply left the flowers Bruce left for her unceremoniously at her station. They would probably wilt by tomorrow, but she didn't care, she didn't want to carry a heavy bouquet of expensive flowers half-way across town.

Sarah glanced around to make sure no one was around. There were a few people left but they were either elsewhere backstage or conversing with each other. She picked up her wristwatch from her station and looked down at it. It was almost midnight. There was bound to be some taxi cabs still looking for passengers at this hour. Sneaking out the back door, Sarah stepped out into the night, a yawn escaping her lips. Alexandra would have killed her if she went off alone. But for once, Sarah could care less. After her brief, yet admittedly awkward meeting with Bruce, she didn't want to deal with anyone else. Not only had a Goblin King once tried to court her, but now a billionaire was trying to pursue her.

"_Of course," _Sarah thought absently, walking through the back alley. _"A playboy trying his hand at an actress."_ If she were anyone else, she would definitely go for it. Just for fun, just to say she dated a billionaire.

A movement from the corner of her eye caught Sarah's attention. She looked off into the shadows of the surrounding walls and corners of the damp alley and felt a pang of unease. Her father made her sign up for an intensive week-long self-defense workshop before she left for Gotham and she always kept her mace pepper spray in her purse. Yet, despite all of that, perhaps walking alone at night wasn't the best idea…

Then, before she could gasp, a body barreled into hers. Sarah was knocked violently into the brick wall, the wind knocked out of her.

"Where's your money?" a crude voice hissed. Sarah looked up and saw a scrawny man in a tattered coat pointing a gun straight at her.

She fought the urge to panic, she had to stay calm. She slowly began to reach into her back pocket, but stopped when the man raised the gun higher.

"No," she said, the trepidation in her voice audible, "I'm only reaching for my cash, okay?" Thank God she only carried cash with her. She pulled a small wad of rolled up fives and twenties and held it up away from her. "It's all I have."

The man snatched the money from Sarah's hand. Sarah pressed her back into the wall, trying to keep her breathing steady as he stuffed it into his grungy coat. But the man kept the gun raised to her head. Sarah could tell he was not used to doing this. He was greasy and skinny, and was visibly shaking. He was nervous. But it was more than that. He wasn't just shaking out of nerves, he was twitching. He needed drug money and quick before he came completely down.

"Is-is that it?" he asked her, blinking rapidly.

"I swear it's all I have." She tried to keep eye contact with him and keep her gaze away from the gun he pointed at her. She made a mental note to herself to keep her mace in her hand whenever she was alone.

"What's that?" he motioned the gun toward her neck.

Sarah looked down, her eyes falling on the silver chain of her diamond pendant. Her hands flew to her chest, her diamond was hidden by her blouse, but the gleaming silver of the chain managed to peek through the neckline.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It's just a chain."

The man held out a shaky hand. "Give it to me."

"_Oh God, no…"_

"No, please. It's just a chain. Plea-" she couldn't finish. The man jumped on her, grabbed the chain in one greasy hand, and ripped it off her neck.

"No!" she screamed. She didn't care who this was, she didn't care if a gun was pointed at her head. That diamond was precious to her – it was her charm, her security, her life. And the man who gave it to her had been just as important to her. It was all she had left of him.

Her fear was quickly erased by rising anger. Without thinking, and forgetting the very first rule of self-defense, she jumped on the man, desperately reaching for her diamond. This evidently took him by surprise and they both lost their balance and tumbled to the damp ground. She heard a click next her on the ground and knew that the man had dropped his gun. She now had the upper hand. She had strength and sobriety on her side as she struggled for what was rightfully hers.

"Give it back!" she screamed as she tried to reach for his hand, and he tried to push her off of him. They fought for a few moments. The man kept his hand close to him as she tried to wrench her pendant out of his grasp. Finally, the man came to whatever senses he could and threw his free arm to one side. He sent his fist forward across his body, striking it against Sarah's temple.

Sarah cried out in pain and surprise when the man's fist hit the side of her head, hard. This was all the leverage he needed to finally shove her away and scramble out from under her. She cried out something muffled and inaudible to her ears when she fell on her side and hit her head on the concrete.

Wincing in pain, she tried to sit up but felt another blow to her head. She fell back again, her vision turning black for a moment. Her head was swimming with pain as she lay sprawled against the grime of the concrete floor.

In the black of her vision, along with the dark of the night she could see nothing. Gasping for breath, she tried to raise herself up again. But a third blow never came. She saw nothing, only heard a faint rustle followed by the sound of another fist connecting with bone and a body smashing against the debris of the alley.

Silence lingered in the air for a few moments before she cautiously opened her eyes again. She blinked and shook her head to clear her vision. She put one hand on a cement block to steady herself as she rose slowly. But when her ability to see finally returned and her eyes adjusted to the dark, she glanced upward. She almost screamed in shock. Staring down at her only a few feet away was none other than the Batman.

She could do little else other than stare, her mind completely blank with shock.

He was dressed as if for battle, complete with black armor covering his entire body. A black cape fell from his shoulders to the heel of his boots. His waist held a bronze utility belt of sorts, and the black cowl he wore covered half of his face. His very physical appearance was that of a strong, brutish, and savage animal.

He came towards her then, but she actually shrank back as he stood before her. She knew he had done something right, had done something good. But his presence had struck a chord within her. She felt unnerved; uncomfortable… she was almost afraid of him.

His voice was low and raspy when he spoke. "This belongs to you." He held out one massive, gloved hand to her.

Sarah flinched noticeably at the gauntlet he wore that was covered with metal scallops on his forearms. She looked down and saw her pendant resting in his palm. She reached out and snatched it from him, afraid and nervous of too much contact with him.

"How's your head?" his voice remained the same, but it was without any kind of emotion.

Sarah put the diamond in her pocket, keeping her gaze to the ground, away from him. "Fine," she finally said, breathless.

"Bad idea to be walking alone at night," he said flatly, but Sarah could trace that hint of reproach in his voice. "Especially with _that_ around your neck." The emphasis he put on 'that' was unmistakable.

Sarah finally raised her eyes to his. They were like black obsidians; like the flint knives used to take out the hearts of sacrifices. They were stoic yet unmerciful. They could plunge themselves into your chest and take out your heart without a second thought.

She managed to shake off the callous image by raising her chin indifferently, meeting his gaze with one of her own. "Thank you," she said with quiet composure. "This necklace means a great deal to me." She kept her voice cold and firm.

"Do yourself a favor and don't get into this kind of situation again."

Sarah's eyes grew wide, and soon flashed with anger and defiance. Despite the throbbing in her skull and the great deal of intimidation the Batman inflicted; he was only a man dressed in a bat suit. She would not be talked down to by someone like that. But no words came from her mouth. They stood together in silence, each staring the other down. But unlike past circumstances, this was something Sarah couldn't win. The fact that he was just as dark and menacing as the Goblin King still left her anxious and uneasy. His face, half hidden, remained serious as he gazed at her with an intensity she couldn't name and she remained frozen to the spot, but her eyes would not turn downward again. They stayed fixed on his. To the human eye, Batman would not have moved an inch, but Sarah had seen something in his haunted face clear as day. It was recognition.

Sarah nearly started and had to suppress a breath. She knew him. She knew his face.

"Sarah!" A male voice from the other side of the alley broke the tense silence. Sarah started at the sound of her name and turned around to find Sebastian walking towards her. "Are you alright? I heard someone scream."

Sarah furrowed her brow. Didn't he see Batman next to her? She turned back and stared at the empty spot in front of her. He was gone.

"Sarah?" Sebastian asked again, coming to her side. "What is it?"

Sarah continued to stare at the place Batman had just been standing. "Nothing," she murmured, without looking away. "I think we should call the police, though."

"Why?"

Sarah pointed just ahead of her at the slumped figure of the man who tried to mug her.

Sebastian took a step back, taken aback at the sight. "Bloody hell, Sarah! Are you alright?"

"I'm a little shaky but fine, really. But I very much doubt that he is."

* * *

The next morning, Sarah didn't have the luxury of sleeping in. The phone rang shrilly in her ear a few times before she reached for it from her warm bed.

"Hello?" She could barely contain the muffled exhaustion in her voice.

"Sarah?" She recognized Sebastian's voice immediately.

"Sebastian?" she muttered into the receiver. "What is it?"

"I think you should come to the theater right away," his voice sounded impatient but remained serious.

"Why?" Sarah asked. "More police?" She thought that they got all of the information they could from last night. The police came to the theater, did a report, asked Sarah a multitude of questions, and finally took her home at about two in the morning. What more could they ask her?

"Maybe you should just come down. I can't answer these questions by myself."

"Wait, Sebastian… who's asking the questions? And why are you there on a Sunday morning?"

"I got called down too. Don't worry it's just a couple of people who need some more information. But I wasn't the one who was attacked last night."

"Alright, fine." Her mind was still too fuzzy to register any more details. She didn't think Sebastian would give anymore over the phone anyway. "I'll be down there in about an hour."

"Thanks, Sarah."

She heard the phone click on the other end before she put her own phone back down. She turned back into her pillows and looked up at her ceiling, blowing her hair from her face. Perhaps it was a detective from the police department who wanted more answers about Batman. She knew he was still a wary figure among those in law enforcement. Of course in that suit, with that kind of intimidation, it was easy to see why.

Sarah took the back way as usual into the theater but didn't see anyone waiting for her. Only Alexandra, Sebastian, a couple of producers, and a few crew members huddled around each other.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, walking up to the group.

"Sarah!" Alexandra looked surprised to see her. "What are you doing here? Oh," she reached out to Sarah's temple sympathetically. "That's going to swell up nicely."

"Oh, yeah." Sarah brought her fingers to her head, touching the side of her forehead lightly. She had put ice on it last night but a nice blue, purple, and black smudge had shown up anyway. "Wait, what do you mean what am I doing here?" Sarah asked, confused. "Sebastian called me."

Alexandra's eyes glared with rage as she turned to Sebastian. "_You_ called her?!"

Sebastian only shrugged casually. "I thought it might be good exposure for us."

Alexandra hissed through gritted teeth, shaking her head. "This is not the kind of coverage we want, Sebastian. I'm not going to have my best actress promote her personal run-in with Gotham's vigilante and have it be on the front pages of The Enquirer."

"Hey, how do you think some of the highest-paid actors got where they are now?" Sebastian asked defensively. "They take pleasure in publicizing their personal lives."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah was thoroughly perplexed.

A crew member stepped in. "There's a group of reporters in the lobby. They want to ask you about Batman."

"Apparently," Jeremy, one of the producers cut in, "coming to the rescue of a beautiful actress is news worthy."

"Why?" Sarah asked. "Why is it so important?"

"No one has seen Batman up close," Jeremy confirmed. "You're the only one who's really seen him. He's never done anything like what happened last night. Up until now it's been drug raids and well, you know the whole story with The Narrows. Look, Sarah, you're the first person he's come face to face with. The first we know of, anyway."

"But if you hadn't had jumped on your mugger," Alexandra declared, "none of that would have happened, and you wouldn't be in this mess."

Sarah frowned and stared at her director. "He took something that belonged to me…"

"Alright, alright," Jeremy held his hands up, trying to calm everyone down. "Let me try and talk to them. Everyone else just wait here." Jeremy marched out from backstage and up into the main auditorium. Everyone did as they were told and watched him leave.

"Ugh, the press barging in uninvited…" Alexandra sighed. "What could be more fun than this? Oh, I know! How about a nice kick in the face?"

"Oh!" Sebastian raised his hand enthusiastically, then lowered it at the look on Alexandra's face. "Oh, I'm sorry was that a rhetorical question?"

"This isn't funny!" Sarah hissed, whipping around to face the two. "Sebastian you never told me that the press was here!"

"Like I said," Sebastian took a step back, "it might have been good exposure for us… I mean, the company."

Alexandra and Sarah both clenched their jaws. Sarah turned away and bit her thumb, trying to think. Alexandra was right. She couldn't make a spectacle of herself and advertise the fact that the Batman thwarted a would-be mugger on her behalf. She then held her head in her hand when she had another thought. What if they found out about Bruce? That he came to see her twice, bringing her flowers the second time. No, she couldn't talk to the press. She refused to. Someone would just have to do it for her.

She turned around again, wrapping her arms around herself. "Alexandra, you're the director of the company."

"Yes?" Alexandra tilted her head. "And?"

"Then you're going to have to speak on _my _behalf this time. You're right; I'm not going to have anything to do with this." She rushed past them, refusing to take a part in the whole mess.

"Sarah!" Alexandra tried to call her back.

"Next time, call me if it's something important," she called over her shoulder.

Sarah was completely beside herself at this point. Not only had she been dragged out of bed on a Sunday morning but she had been tricked into coming all the way down to Grand Avenue by Sebastian, and only to help him further his public image by using her.

"Disgusting jerk," she huffed as she shoved the back door open. She crossed her arms over her chest and made her way down the steps. But just as she rounded the back corner, she literally ran into another woman sharply dressed in a business jacket with a pencil skirt. Sarah gasped in surprise but quickly composed herself when she noticed that this woman may be a reporter.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed. "Excuse me, but I'm trying to…"

"Are you a reporter?" Sarah asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, I am," she held out her hand. Sarah took it lightly but withdrew her own hand quickly. "My name is Lois Lane, and I'm from the Daily Planet."

Sarah's eyes widened in shock. She felt a tug of intense jealousy in her chest, but she mentally pushed it aside. This was the woman Superman had fallen in love with. She was still the high strung, unattractive, and obnoxious woman Sarah had met almost a year ago. Obviously, Lois hadn't remembered her, and Sarah thought it a blessing.

Lois fumbled inside one of her coat pockets pulling out a tape recorder. "I can't seem to get anyone from inside the theater. So I thought maybe someone would be back here."

"The Daily Planet is in Metropolis," Sarah said, ignoring Lois' concern. "Why are you in Gotham?"

"Oh, I was out here on business anyway, and when I heard an actress from this company had a run-in with the elusive Batman, well, it's quite a story."

"No," Sarah stated, shaking her head. "It's not. You shouldn't be wasting your time here."

"Look, miss," Lois threw up her hand exasperatedly. "Do you know where I can find a Sarah Wilson or not?"

"It's Williams!" Sarah blurted angrily, her eyes throwing daggers at Lois. She was beyond annoyed, she was absolutely livid. Her heart beat furiously, she was afraid she may explode in front of Lois Lane, telling her exactly how she felt about her. But that wouldn't do. She was already in a precarious spot as it was. She had to leave now before she regretted doing something drastic. "…And I doubt she would want to talk with you," she finished, her tone frigid. She then brushed past Lois and continued down the street, walking as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Sarah spent the rest of the day in her apartment as it had started raining early in the afternoon. But the entire day was spent in anxious isolation. Her encounter with the Batman and then with Lois Lane had unnerved her. Not to mention the awful display in the rotunda. Everything was so happening so fast and it was all at once. It was the first time in months that she felt herself to be out of balance. That she felt her power, her heightened intuition to be somehow blocked. She felt as if something had stilled, stagnated inside of her and was clinging to her emotional distress.

Her roommates had backed off after the barrage of questions from the police and Sarah's reluctance to talk to the press. They knew better than to pry about the Batman. An encounter with him was sure to make the bravest man break into a cold sweat.

And then there was that unnerving moment of silence before he disappeared from sight. That moment where they recognized each other, where they knew each other… She had seen before him she knew she had. It was similar to the feeling of running into someone you had known from the past and the name was on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't remember…

She stared out onto the courtyard keeping her gaze fixed on the standing angel. She stared at it thinking that its wings might flutter or it may turn its head to stare back at her. But of course it didn't move. She then began to pace her room late into the night. The sheets and covers of her bed were thrown back. She had tried to sleep but to no avail. She glanced at a bottle of pills on her desk and shook her head. No, she would not take sleeping pills, those were for early mornings. She doubted they would help when she was in this state. She looked into her dressing mirror and frowned. There were dark circles under her gold-green eyes... faint still but noticeable.

She grimaced at her own reflection before she finally gave in and began to crawl into her bed again, but before she did something on her bedroom dresser caught her eye. It was the feather Jareth had given her the last day she was in Metropolis. She walked over and stood before it for a moment before she picked it up and began to twirl the tip in her fingers. Staring down at the white feather, she sat on the edge of her bed. She gazed down upon each ivory bristle, the down that lay near the hollow shaft, the soft golden tip as absently ran it over the free palm of her hand.

"Why are you hiding from me?" she murmured in the dark. "Are you afraid?"

As soon as she spoke these words, her eyelids became heavy, her heart slowed in its beating. With a sigh, she settled back in her bed and closed her eyes, giving in to her sudden weariness…

* * *

Her body lay still. The black overwhelmed her while it enveloped her vision. As the fog lifted from her mind, flashes of colors and images flared as she felt herself stepping alone into a crowd of glittering bodies drunk on the splendor of the night. Velvet coats with gold trimmed edges, silk gowns blending into a haze of colors as they swirled and crashed into each other. People hid their beauty and elegance behind hideous masks that opposed their rich costumes. In this ballroom they mingled and twisted their bodies as a light mist of incense and candlelight filled the room with a hazy, unearthly glow.

Ethereal music played somewhere in the background, emanating from some unnamed source. The seductive melody fell softly on the waiting ears of the masked dancers who moved about the ballroom with liquid grace.

Sarah had been here before. But the fear and trepidation of finding herself here again caused her body to tremble as she emerged from behind one of the marble pillars, treading slowly toward the inner circle of the room. The mirrors on either side of her reflected her image as she moved through the crowd of people who parted around her, like water around a stone. She half-expected to be dressed in a gown of glittering white, but she stopped short when she saw a slender dress, black as midnight hanging precariously at the edge of her shoulders, the neckline dropping much lower than she would have liked, so that the swell of her breasts was very evident. Her slender hands fluttered up suddenly to clasp against her bare skin and preserve some of her modesty. The dress accentuated the curves of her body from the tight bodice to the angling of the fabric at her waist, to the skirt flowing gracefully about her legs. Her hair was down, not put up as it had been before. Little red lotus flowers were threaded through her dark tresses which hung in loose curls over her shoulders and cascaded down her bare skin.

She turned away from her reflection and anxiously walked past all the murmurs and whispers, all the dancing bodies and lingering hungry eyes that fell upon her body. Her long, ebony locks flowing behind her, and falling gently onto her exposed back.

She was looking... she was always looking. A mask of the Devil appeared, and as the mask fell she saw mismatched eyes one of ice blue and the other warm auburn, holding her gaze.

But he disappeared into the crowd again, just as he had always done. But she still searched...

She opened her eyes, stretching out her hand automatically to the other side of the bed before pulling it back. No one was there.

Sarah pulled herself up from the bed, padded to the bathroom down the hallway and turned on the light. She glances at her flushed face in the mirror. She shook her head at herself, wetting her hands in the sink and running them over her face.

"_It's certainly been a long time," _she told her reflection in the mirror. When was the last time she shared a bed with a man? It had been a couple of years, at least. She remembered meeting him at a wine bar through mutual friends. He was an attorney, a few years older than she, and already came from old money. There was so much sexual tension between them, and he was so charming and silver-tongued… he stopped calling after they took care of business, which also happened to be their first date. She shook her head, remembering how used and manipulated she had felt. That night and that very brief fling was always in the back of her mind.

But now an image of herself dressed in black, staring into those eyes she knew so well… She shivered at the intensity of the dream before she pushed it aside as just as dream and looked back down, reaching for more water.

Splashing water on her face and neck one last time, she took a deep breath before looking up into the mirror again. Her blood froze when she saw Jareth reflected in the glass behind her, and she didn't hesitate to scream out of pure shock.

She kept screaming as she whipped around, lost her footing, and stumbled back into her shower curtain. She was finally silenced by the shower curtain rod that came tumbling down on top of her. She fumbled with the curtain rod for a few moments before she finally tossed it down behind her into the bathtub.

Clenching her jaw, she took a deep breath and recovered as best she could. She turned around to face him once more, and stopped breathing for one horrible second. He was more beautiful and terrible than she remembered. He was dressed in his black leather boots; tights in black silk looking like they were molded to his muscular thighs and clinging like a second skin to his slender hips. The leather jacket was carelessly unbuttoned to reveal the soft silk shirt underneath, open low to the waist. His hair was like a golden halo around his beautifully drawn pallid Fay features; with his savage and sensual mouth curved into a vicious smile.

Sarah suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious and under dressed in her simple night shirt and sweat pants.

Jareth laughed quietly then, the sound reverberating deep in his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her coolly for a moment. He finally tilted his head and asked her, "did you miss me?"

* * *


	6. Company is Calling

"What are you doing here?" Sarah hissed, her shock quickly subsiding into anger.

"You summoned me, fair maiden," Jareth stated casually, though there was an obvious sneer in his voice.

"What?" she nearly shouted. "I did not!"

"Oh, but you did." Jareth leant back on the wall with casual grace. "You called for me last night."

Sarah shook her head, disbelieving. She didn't remember ever calling for anyone last night. "I didn't. I couldn't have!"

Jareth sighed and ducked his head in exasperation. "When you decided to take it upon yourself to foolishly attack your assailant…"

"He took my pendant!" she screamed in defense. "Why can't anyone understand…"

"And when you were knocked to the ground nearly unconscious," he continued, his voice rising. "You called my name. You called my name, however…"

"Someone else got there first," she finished.

He shifted his weight slightly. "Yes. Someone else got there first." He cast an icy glare at her. His eyes were like dangerously sharp icicles as a cruel smile grew on his thin lips. "My, my you do seem to attract the men in costumes, don't you?"

Sarah stood straighter. "Present company excluded?"

He clenched his jaw. "Indeed."

Someone banged on the bathroom door. "Sarah? Are you alright?" It was Bianca.

Sarah swore under her breath, gritting her teeth. Jareth merely raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the wall, amused at her reaction and waiting for an answer, as well.

"I'm okay," Sarah answered. "I just found a giant roach." Her words were aimed directly at Jareth, and she didn't bother to hide the animosity.

Bianca didn't sound convinced. "Are you talking to someone in there?" She thought she had already gone over the rules about overnight guests to Sarah.

But Sarah came out of the bathroom, shut off the light and closed the door behind her. "No, I'm fine. I think I scared it away. Good night." She ducked her head and headed straight back for her room while Bianca stared after her dubiously. Bianca finally rolled her eyes and huffed back to her own room.

Sarah pushed her hair away from her face, trying to get a grip on herself. She didn't like to think that she had gone crazy with loneliness or worse yet, that this was still just a dream. But it felt real; as real as it had been before. And she knew he was in her room, waiting for her to come in and acknowledge him.

Sarah peeked behind her shoulder and watched Bianca close the door to her bedroom before she took a deep breath and pushed her own red door open. She stepped into her room and saw his silhouette standing in front of her window, gazing intently at the courtyard below. He stood with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him. When she shut the door behind her, he turned and they regarded each other for a few moments.

An endless possibility of words and actions ran through her mind at the sight of him. She could scream at him, throw something at him, accuse him, insult him. Or she could crash into him and kiss him mercilessly. She didn't think he would mind. Or she could walk away and ignore him, hoping that maybe this was indeed a dream and she would wake up alone again.

Nothing happened. They stared at each other in the dim light of her bedroom, they both knew that this room was quite small and having him in such close quarters was unnerving to say the least. She only prayed that he didn't know what kind of room this used to be.

She was still in a state of shock at his sudden appearance, in her bathroom no less. All of those days and nights spent in tears. What she had suffered during those dark nights, suffering caused by his cruelty… and the empty days without him. She wrapped her arms around herself and kept her distance as she watched him warily. She was afraid her legs would give out on her as the dull ache in her heart began to throb again. What if her heart would still give him trust after all this time… what if it didn't? What if one word would bring back what could have been? Or that one fateful look would restore the longing and yearning they once had for each other. Or perhaps even this time, tenderness and passion.

Jareth then turned back around wearing the usual mask on his face – no emotion whatsoever, just an expression similar to that of a marble statue. Sarah thought it was strange that the air didn't feel hot or oppressive as it usually did whenever he was around.

"This is very different from the last city, isn't it?" he finally asked, never looking away from the courtyard.

Silence lingered in the air before Sarah answered, "Yes, it is."

"Much colder here, too." He stared at the frozen angel for a few quiet moments before he finally turned back to her with an easy grace. His eyes narrowed before he reached out to her. "How is your head?"

Sarah turned her head to the side, avoiding his touch. "It's fine." She glared at him darkly as she backed further away. "Thanks for asking."

Jareth looked at her with such intensity that it almost frightened her as he took in her womanly form retreating away from him. His eyes suddenly drew down to her chest.

Sarah looked down at herself and grasped her diamond that had fallen out from her shirt, understanding now what he was sensing. The diamond was embedded with one of the crystals from the Fortress. He could sense the power from it, and was aware of its energy coursing through her. And she in turn, could feel his dark eyes that seemed to ruthlessly take in every part of her. She couldn't stand the intense emotions that were quickly dissolving her reasonable thinking.

One coherent thought, or rather an intense feeling of concern and protection suddenly hit her.

"Where are they?" she demanded.

"Who?"

"My friends." Her stare was becoming just as cold as he was.

"Oh, them," he answered with indifference. "They're fine."

"That's not very reassuring." Her voice increased with anger. "Where are they? I called for them but they never came. What have you done to them?"

Jareth crossed his arms and his eyes became even harder at her accusation. "I do not like to repeat myself more than twice, Sarah. No harm as come to them, I assure you."

Sarah was silenced only by the faint softening of his pointed features. But before she could look any further, he turned his gaze back to the courtyard for a moment. "I can see it in your eyes, Sarah. You hate me," a bitter smile appeared as he looked back to her, "don't you?"

Sarah looked away, her nostrils flaring. She remembered Clark's words from so long ago when they walked in the park before Christmas. "I don't hate, Jareth." Her voice dropped so low she almost couldn't hear herself. "I never hated you."

He blinked. "Even after what happened?"

"What you did was monstrous," she hissed. "Do you have any remorse at all for what you did? Are you at all sorry?"

Jareth flinched and looked away. He did not answer her.

"No, I didn't think you were," Sarah finally said, her icy tone cutting through the stillness. "Do you honestly think that I can trust you, let you back in my life after what you did?"

He did not answer her. Sarah's irritation at his unexpected arrival and the anger at his silence only rose in her.

"You never had to see me again in the first place, but you tricked me to bring you back. You played me when I was at my weakest, and then you went right ahead and made all these _plans_ for me, and for what? To come back as your Queen and never even stopping to consider what I wanted. It was for you, to satisfy yourself!"

Still no answer. Jareth did not even flinch.

Sarah continued, her voice rising in anger. "Then you did something horrible, truly unspeakable." She forced her voice to lower to a quiet hush as she stepped closer to him. "Because you were threatened. The Goblin King had finally met his match and the only way to keep your ego intact was to humiliate and beat him. You sank to a new low that night, Jareth." Her eyes wandered over his still form before she said, "and I thought I had gotten rid of you for good."

Jareth finally turned his face to her, his angular features beautifully pale in the dim light. "That is where you are wrong, my dear." His clipped voice and haughty demeanor carried no anger, and it left Sarah taken aback. He only blinked at her reaction of his calm and collected response. "You cannot kill a King by mere words alone. Despite the raw power you carry, I will always be more than what you would expect."

Sarah looked away, her lips pursed and her whole body on edge. She simply didn't know what to make of this Goblin King who seemed so calm and composed. His very presence and manner still dripped with arrogance, but there was something different about him as well. He didn't admit to anything wrong with all of the other things Sarah had accused him of. But he didn't exactly take any of the blame either.

Suddenly, something swept into her mind. A flash of a memory, of a dream she had long ago. But it wasn't a dream, it was real. It was Jareth not the Goblin King that came to her and declared his deep love for her. There were two sides to him and she felt as if she were finally talking to both. Sarah then remembered that she never told him how she felt about him. Everything that had happened in that dream state was of her mind, and not his. He knew nothing.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes, until she felt Jareth's warm body sidle up to hers. He leaned into her until his lips were inches from her ear. Her breath caught as she felt strands of his hair touch the cold skin of her arm. She could almost hear his heart beating in time with her own; could feel the icy sting of his glare. She leant back and finally lifted her head to meet his diamond-hard eyes. It was like a harsh blow to her chest. All thought went from her head. She was falling again. He didn't look at her, he was looking straight through her, and for one fleeting moment she felt as if she couldn't keep a single thing from him.

"Are you still afraid of me?" he taunted, his soft breath on her ear.

She didn't look away. "No," she lied. _"I'm afraid of myself… I always have been."_

Jareth was mildly amused. He knew she was lying. Even in the darkness, he could see her apprehension clear as day.

Sarah finally looked away again and murmured, "why are you here?"

"You called for me," he replied tauntingly.

"No," she snapped her head back, eyes flashing. "It's not just because of that. You could have come back anytime."

"Oh yes," he said, turning away, "and become subject to your insults and refusals, even though we both know that I'm exactly want you want." He smirked at his last remark and stared down at her. "You're a walking contradiction, Sarah Williams."

"Why are you here, then?" she asked, bringing her arms closer to her almost defensively. "Why even bother showing up if you're just…"

"Just accept it, Sarah dear," Jareth interrupted, mocking her.

"I won't," she bit back. Jareth shot her a sideways glance and Sarah could see the barest hint of a raised eyebrow again. Sarah flicked her gaze away. She had sounded much too childish just now. But she couldn't be sure if he was amused or put off by it. "_I could be dreaming," _Sarah thought dejectedly, her green eyes clouding. _"This might be my subconscious perhaps trying to appease my loneliness."_ She didn't doubt herself, it very well could have been.

"I must go," he said, his jaw clenching. "I have lingered here too long." His tone of voice seemed to mirror her thoughts, almost as if this dream were coming to an end.

But she didn't dare let him go until she had the last word. "I didn't mean to call, you know. Does this mean you're even real?"

He looked at her then. Sarah observed for a moment that she triggered an expression in his eyes that she couldn't interpret. Even in the dark she could see no trace of a smirk or even of the mask he wore; only something raw, something almost too real staring back into her eyes of green and gold. Jareth, not the Goblin King was looking back at her now.

He smiled then, not wickedly, but in a shrewd kind of fashion. "Sarah," he said, "you should know better than anyone that many of the truths you cling to depend greatly on your own point of view."

Sarah's brows furrowed, he was talking in riddles now. And before she could say anything more, he disappeared, and she remembered nothing after that.

* * *

Sarah woke later than usual the next day. She rolled onto her back and watched the small sliver of sky from her bed. She rubbed her hands over her weary face and sore eyes before she looked around her room for any signs of Jareth. There were none.

"_It couldn't have been a dream,"_ she thought, _"it was so real."_

It felt the same after waking from a conflicting dream. She felt almost light-heartened to see him again but at the same time she felt anxious and dejected that it may have only been a dream.

She rose from her bed and made her way down to the kitchen. Bianca, Sophie, and one of the other girls were just finishing their breakfast.

"Morning," they all said to each other.

"Did you sleep okay?" Sophie asked Sarah as she took a seat next to them at the table.

"Yeah," Sarah said, shaking her head and pouring herself some cereal. "I'm sorry about all the noise last night."

"What noise?" Bianca asked before taking her last spoonful.

Sarah froze and looked at her incredulously. "Last night. In the bathroom I saw a roach."

All three girls gasped and Sophie nearly gagged. "Gross!" she hollered. "Did you kill it?"

Sarah was beginning to get a little nervous. "I told you, Bianca, you even came to check on me."

Bianca shook her head, wide-eyed. "Uh uh. I slept through the whole night. You must have been sleepwalking or something."

"_Oh god," _Sarah thought, "_please no."_

"Well?" Sophia persisted. "Did you kill it?"

Sarah knew that it was best not to push the matter any further. Perhaps it was a dream after all. She couldn't push away the disappointment she now felt. She started to go through the motions of eating breakfast numbly.

"No," she finally said, "it got away."

* * *

The usual chatter and bustle of Monday morning awaited Sarah when she arrived backstage. She exchanged smiles and 'good mornings' with the members and a few of the stage crew. Yet, despite all the excitement of a grand opening and the prospect of a long week of rehearsals; Sarah's nerves were on edge.

She was faced with more anxious calls from the press who was still waiting for a statement, a quote – anything to get her to talk about Batman. But she would have none of it. The only way she was going to make a name for herself was through her raw talent and hard work, not through the circus of the media.

And it was difficult, to say the least, to stay focused on her lines and stay in character throughout the day without thinking of Jareth…

This feeling of apprehension would last for two weeks. She would expect to see him standing in her bedroom waiting for her. Or perhaps just around the corner of the theater, maybe she would catch a glimpse of his golden white hair in the audience, or expect to see a crystal ball making its way down an empty street. But she never did. She never saw him in her dreams again, but only heard his voice; and sometimes felt a glove on her cheek or running through her hair. Sometimes she would be angry with him but would only hear a slight chuckle in response. Other times she would ignore his presence, hoping he would appear to her again in his frustration. But the dreams always remained the same.

But it didn't excuse the feeling of being watched constantly in the waking world; and not by the people she could actually see; especially here at the theater. And the theater itself was truly made to be a fairytale, and it always felt like she entered in a world full of new magic and sweet melancholy that absorbed her entire soul. The huge mirrors, the perfect statues, the thousand of lights, everything composed so perfectly she often wondered if it were all real or not. She always felt like she had traveled through time, and found herself at a masked ball of the nineteenth Century. If she found herself alone, she would close her eyes and hear the music, the laughter of people, the sound of the glasses, and the smell of the perfumes.

In between rehearsals and performances, Sarah liked to sit outside on the theater staircase and contemplate the avenue outside filled with the sights and sounds of the city. At her side, she always found romantic couples (much to her chagrin), young musicians playing the guitar, children playing and laughing, and tourists taking photos of every statue or column. She enjoyed these moments, breathing in deeply and feeling that the world had stopped, that everything was fine in that one moment. Then, when she would least expect it, she would smile and close her eyes, and feel _him_ near her.

However, Sarah knew all too well that Gotham City outside of this district was quite rough, and it didn't much help the fact that she had already knew reality could be just as harsh, life cruel, living in her world hectic and draining. She didn't think that she was reverting back to a selfish child when she sought to compensate or comfort herself with the feeling of Jareth's presence in this place he created for her; she was after all only human. And without knowing it, she was finding herself more and more drawn to the idea that she could identify herself with the Goblin King much more readily because she _wanted_ to be drawn back into that world fantasy again.

But then a betraying thought, a thought that came rushing into her head just as unexpectedly as the first one. _"He's going to break my heart again after I give mine to his, I know he will."_

And it was from here that she found so much freedom and joy in becoming a different person on stage. The fantasy remained but without the pain of love and longing. There was no Jareth, no pretenses, no lies, or walls. As much as she hated to give Jareth the credit and admit to it, it was him that made her exceptional at what she did. But of course, this had always been the case.

* * *

She managed to finish rehearsal hours later; her mouth and throat parched from repeated lines and the occasional bursts of theatrical bantering and screaming. She made her way straight to the lounge to grab a bottle of water.

But she could only enjoy the cool rush of water into her mouth and down her throat for a moment before Alexandra came rushing in after her.

"Sarah," she spoke firmly. "I didn't want to bring this up in front of everybody else. But you better have a look at this." She thrust a folded up spread of a newspaper out to her.

Sarah froze, immediately dreading what could be in the newspaper.

"Go ahead," Alexandra insisted. "It's nothing bad, just something to be aware of."

Sarah reached out for it hesitantly and unfolded it to read the front headline, 'Batman Still Remains a Mystery.' She felt her shoulders slump as she sighed heavily. Her eyes locked onto the only known photograph to be taken of the Batman. It was taken from the side, but his face and chest was turned toward her. It was then that she noticed the black silhouette of a bat etched unto his armor. An image of a red and yellow 'S' flashed into Sarah's mind, and she sighed again at the paradox of it all. She fought the childish urge to call Batman a copycat. But then another image crossed her mind… a crescent moon set in silver against a bare chest…

She shook her head mentally and looked back up at Alexandra. "This isn't bad?" she asked skeptically.

"It isn't bad because you didn't play victim to the media in the last two weeks." She grabbed the newspaper back. "No one did."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Not even Sebastian?"

"Not even Sebastian," Alexandra replied evenly. "I think he might have realized that his reputation as a decent actor could be undermined, as well. Just keep this on the low down, Sarah. It may take a while but the media will eventually find something else. And," she pointed a finger at Sarah, "make sure you steer clear of Bruce Wayne. But I don't think I have to remind you of that. You seem to have already gotten that idea."

Sarah almost shrugged indifferently at the remark; but instead her body instantly froze at the sound of Bruce's name. He had secretly sent her a bouquet nearly every day, even when it wasn't a performance day. She never sent a reply back knowing that Alexandra would have her head if she did. But she couldn't deny the idea that she thought about going behind Alexandra's back…

Sometimes seeing the roses he sent was a nice distraction from a constant reminder of Jareth's lingering ghost. She often thought how nice it really would be to an object of affection in her real world and not one in her dreams. But then she was harshly reminded of Bruce's humanity and how dangerous an affair with him would be if Jareth really were to appear…

After the final curtain closed in front of the Company most everyone rushed to Sarah to congratulate her. She seemed to be getting better and better, and in her gratitude, she handed each one a flower from her bouquet.

Alexandra stiffly gave her approval as she escorted Sarah away downstage to the dressing room. Sarah's close friend, Krista, followed behind them without being seen.

"You did very well, my dear," said Alexandra. "You've made our patrons very happy." She smiled and left Sarah in front of the dressing room door, and before Sarah could open it she heard a voice…

"_Well done…"  
_

Sarah froze, knowing the voice that she could hear everywhere and nowhere. He was here…

Then she heard another voice calling her name. She turned in surprise, and was relieved to see Krista. "Don't hide!" Krista playfully admonished, "You were perfect! I wish I could find half the inspiration you do."

Sarah, still troubled at the sound of Jareth's voice entered the dressing room with Krista.

"_I used to dream that he would appear, and now even with Krista with me, I can still sense him everywhere."_

"Maybe it's just all the rehearsals," Sarah told her friend.

"_He's hiding somewhere…"_

"Come on, Sarah, don't be so modest."

"_Because somehow I know he's always with me_."

"Sarah?" Krista came to her side and grasped her wrist, "hey, are you alright?"

"_He's my guide and my guardian now, like a secret and strange angel watching over me…"_

"Sarah, your hands are freezing!"

"_I can feel him all around me…"_

"Sarah!"

Sarah blinked once and her eyes began to focus on Krista. Her friend looked back at her with the most bewildered and troubled face. Krista led her to a chair in front of the vanity table. "Are you feeling okay? Your face is so pale!"

She sat Sarah down as gently as she could, thinking that she might be suffering from over exhaustion or dehydration. "Here," she filled a paper cup with water from the nearby cooler and handed it to Sarah. "Just sip it."

"I'm fine," Sarah murmured. But she was far from it. She could feel Jareth literally everywhere. She felt that if this room was covered with mirrors he would be in every one of them. And the room itself was so stifling hot that she ignored Krista and guzzled down the water. She could hardly catch a breath, and Krista's only concern was for her… why couldn't Krista feel this oppressive heat, too?

"I'm fine," Sarah repeated, "just exhausted I think."

They looked at each other and Krista knew that Sarah was lying, something was wrong. But the moment was broken by Alexandra barging into the room with another large bouquet of flowers. She didn't seem to notice the heat in here, either. Sarah felt certain that she would break into a sweat any minute.

"Krista, you're needed outside."

By the tone of Alexandra's voice, Krista and Sarah knew that Alexandra just wanted Krista to leave the room. Sarah smiled weakly, trying to reassure her friend. Krista, almost dotingly, gave her another cupful of water before she left and joined the other members celebrating outside.

Alexandra watched her leave and shut the door behind her. "My dear," she turned to Sarah and smiled shrewdly, "I was asked to give you these from a secret admirer."

Sarah was still in a slightly comatose state and numbly took the flowers Alexandra handed her. "I thought you said to ignore Bruce," she said, turning her face and trying not to inhale the overpowering scent of lilies.

"I never said they were from Bruce," Alexandra snapped back.

Sarah fumbled with the flowers a bit after giving Alex a strange look, and before long her fingers ran across something hard and cold attached to the stems. Curious, she looked up at Alexandra's steadily retreating figure before she managed to reach inside and pull out a delicately made yellow diamond bracelet.

Draped across her fingers, Sarah openly gasped at the gift. Who would send something like this? Surely not Bruce, Alexandra herself denied it and wouldn't hide something like this from Sarah. It couldn't be from any of the Company members, they could barely afford the bouquet of flowers. Could it be from Jareth?

No, Sarah readily decided. In the Underground, Jareth could have anyone he wanted to carry out a seduction – she knew that first hand. But when it came to this world he simply didn't fit the profile of enlisting a go-between. Alexandra didn't seem the type of mortal that he could so readily trust. Jareth would have used his own methods by himself.

So then who would send this? A patron, perhaps? Bruce wasn't the only one in Gotham, a theater like this would need to have several. If this was the case why would Alexandra so readily to agree to a gift like this to any of her actors and not want Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham, to court the star?

* * *

Sal Maroni had taken over as boss of Carmine Falcone's crime family following Falcone's fall from power during Ra's Al Ghul's attack on Gotham almost a year ago. And being embroiled in a violent turf war with rival gangsters Gambol and the Chechen left him in a word, exhausted.

So when he had the time, Maroni took a few of his bodyguards and a lady friend with him to the theater, which he had secretly been a patron of for many years. Just because he was part of the mob didn't mean he was completely uncultured. But he had to pay the right people to slip through unnoticed by the public and have his own box reserved for him and his entourage. Unfortunately, the Batman's influence had spread too far, even into the upper class of Gotham. But as fate would have it, he found his way in via the Company director. Alexandra Kyle was easily persuaded into exactly this kind of arrangement. He could enjoy the theater privately and she could pay off some of the questionable debt she accumulated over the past few years, it was quite the lucrative arrangement. And it was about to become much more beneficial to him. Maroni had become quite taken with the Company's new star. She had talent, looks, and if Alexandra had made Sarah Williams all she seemed to be, wits. Something he had missed for a long time. The secret gifts would start out subtle, a bouquet every now and again, even when he couldn't make it to the theater. But tonight, the gift would be a little more substantial. Alexandra had always been extremely discreet with the way she handled the gifts, and both knew what the end result would be. Even now he had several mistresses but there was always room for one more. This one really was quite pretty and with so much talent, she could prove to be quite exceptional. Of course, Sarah wouldn't have any choice in the matter; he would have already given away too much.

Talent like Sarah's wasn't easily replaceable. But it could be. And it could ruin both Sarah and the Company. Alexandra was taking a huge risk but both her and Maroni knew that the only thing that really talked in this town was money and power.

* * *


	7. Under the Skin

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth or Batman or anything by Leroux

* * *

What is a mirror? It was basically a smooth, shiny surface that formed her image by reflection.

When Sarah gazed into the mirror, her reflection returned to her, and she saw herself through her own eyes. Whatever reflection she truly saw could either be reality or distortion. Psychiatrists would have deemed a disorder if she looked into the mirror and saw herself as something she was not physically. Regardless, the image reflected in the mirror could have a profound effect on anyone.

So here she was, faced with the mirror in her dressing room with the diamond bracelet idly in her hand.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander…"

Sarah started at the voice and shoved the bracelet out of sight under a prop headscarf. Bruce was leaning in the doorway, looking positively regal.

Sarah smiled in spite of herself. "You know that poem, too…"

Bruce smiled with her. "Only a little," he walked in and continued the old poem, "Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls…"

Sarah joined in, "or of goblins, of shoes, or of riddles..."

He kept the rhyme going. "Like a butterfly she flew about in the gold of the sun, in her golden curls she the crown of spring carried, and her eyes was the suns, so bright blue and clear but above them all she loved a little bird…" he paused, was about to say more, but then gave up. "And that's all I know."

Sarah laughed softly, casting her eyes down. "What made you think of that?"

"The way you looked just now, thinking of everything and nothing."

"My hair is far from golden and my eyes are not blue."

"They are the brightest _I've_ seen."

"Oh, please," she smiled again playfully. She absently began to brush out the ends of her hair with her fingers, and didn't miss the frown on Bruce's face when he noticed the bouquet of flowers.

"I see you have more than one admirer," he said, his tone changing deeply.

Sarah shrugged. She could distinctly hear that note of jealousy in his voice. She couldn't help but enjoy that just a little bit. "Just an admirer of the arts." But Sarah scowled openly when Bruce reached into the bouquet, pulled out a freesia, and fixed it into the buttonhole of his lapel.

"My driver is about to pull up," he said, "and I would hate to miss my dinner reservation."

Sarah feigned disinterest. "You'd better go then."

"Not without my date."

Sarah's heart sped up as she flicked her eyes back up to him. The look on his face was completely serious, he wasn't kidding around this time. And as she stared into his eyes, she could see the faintest traces of obsidian…

"Listen," he said, before she could answer, "I'll go out, take a look around and tell the driver to pull up around the back so as not attract too much attention."

"Bruce, I really can't…"

"This time I'm not taking no for an answer." He turned and hurried out of the room.

"Bruce!"

"Reservations are at 11:00 at the Everest Room."

"Bruce, wait!"

"I'll be back in a few." And with that, Bruce had closed the door behind him, leaving Sarah only minutes to get ready.

Get ready? No. Sarah shook her head and sat back into her chair. He wasn't giving her a choice, Bruce was going to take her out whether she liked it or not. She couldn't very well kick and scream as Bruce Wayne would probably literally throw her over his shoulder just to get her to go out with him. Besides, that would attract the attention they both didn't want.

"Damn…" she whispered. The Everest Room was a VIP club only for those who had more money than they knew what to do with. Just being on the wait list alone was a privilege in itself, except that the wait was at least two years. "Damn, damn, damn…" She leaned over, put her head in hands, and looked back into the mirror.

"What do I do?" she asked her reflection. "Do I lock myself in?"

No answer.

"Should I leave?"

Nothing.

"Do I go with Bruce?"

"_No."_

Sarah knew that voice. She knew it so well the sound of it didn't even startle her. But she dared not speak, didn't even breathe for fear that it would disappear… she hadn't heard his voice in the waking world for years it seemed. She stayed perfectly still, waiting for him to speak again, having completely forgot about Bruce. She stared at her reflection, fascinated with it almost, peering intently at the gold flecks in her eyes that seemed to move in a kaleidoscope…

Her focus became blurred as dark music began to play from the shadows – tiny drums and small bells from a music box melody she used to hear all the time… Her reflection faded and broke into an image that was coalescing inside, but she couldn't quite make it out. She leaned forward to get a closer look at the pinpoints of light that swayed and drifted to the music. She couldn't take her eyes away from the dance of light inside her mirror as the music became louder and slowly ensnared her mind. As it took hold of her she couldn't move, couldn't even think; couldn't even feel how weightless her body had become as she rose from the chair.

Her legs were weak and shaky, but something invisible held her up. There were faint tendrils of her mind that managed to reach out for coherent thought, but was met with a soft yet resistant wall. She looked down and barely registered something white on her body – silk and lace, the color of flawless pearls. It clung to her and draped over her hips and legs, more delicate and intricate than a spider's web.

Sarah tried to reach out again, to escape this lovely spell, but the music and the dance of light had already trapped her inside a safe, beautiful cage. The mirror called to her again to explore its depths, and through the mirror _he_ called to her, bidding her to look at her own image in the mirror again. Sarah reached for the glowing, shimmering glass; and when she touched it, the mirror opened into an inferno of white light.

In the mirror was the Goblin King, pale and beautiful as she had always remembered him. Her reflection had become a King cloaked in glistening black, like oil in the sun. He become a part of her, no longer dwelling inside her mind, but offering her a chance to enter his world once more…

He reached out to her, and Sarah finally succumbed, taking his gloved hand. He took her hand firmly, but not fiercely, and led her down to his domain deep in the Underground.

* * *

The soft cloud of silk, the sheer black lace contrasting sharply with her white dress - where was she? What happened?

As she opened her eyes fully, she began to panic; she didn't remember coming here, wherever here was. This time she could clearly hear the notes of a music box not far from where she lay.

She slipped off the bed of black and followed the music that wasn't at all the seductive tune she had heard before; this time it was simple, real. She minded where she stepped because of the darkness that surrounded her on all sides. Flaring candles were scattered everywhere throughout what looked like a deep, large cave and she was standing in a small enclave just above a vast, glassy candlelight revealed giant candelabrums lit and lining the cave.

Suddenly the music stopped. And there, in front of the lake, was the Goblin King sitting in his throne. His cloak of black still draped over him, his whole dark attire glittered in the reflection of the candles. His posture, however, wasn't very regal. He was slumped back in his throne, his chin resting on a raised fist, and as his eyes moved to her she got the distinct feeling that he was now trying to decide what to do with her.

He tensed suddenly, his body becoming rigid and the muscles in his jaw tensed. There were a few moments of silence and hesitation as she eyed him warily, her dark eyebrows drawn defensively over bright green eyes that flashed with fear.

"Where am I?" she asked him, walking down the stone steps toward his throne. "Why did you bring me here?" Her voice was firm. Her posture had straightened when she had spoken and she tried to appear brave, but Jareth knew better. He could sense her fear.

"This is the closest I can bring you to the Underground without your consent," his voice was as smooth as the waters of the lake.

She stepped toward him shaking her head from side to side in denial. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her blood began to boil; what had he done? "I thought I was quite adamant about _not _going to the Underground with you! You're just too immature to take 'no' as an answer, aren't you?"

Jareth sprang up and rounded on her furiously. "I have brought you your dreams, I delivered you from that dreary, trapped life of yours, I had that godforsaken theater built for you, I have brought you to the seat of my throne and what does it all mean to you? Nothing!"

Her hackles rose in defense. "Then save yourself the trouble next time and don't bother! You have a seriously twisted way of showing your affections, and this one you just pulled is not exactly winning me over." Silence followed. They both glared at each other, both unwilling to back down. She realized that Jareth had still not learned to love, really love someone else unconditionally. For him, love was an obsession, something to possess, something he couldn't allow anyone else to have. "The last time we met was a dream, wasn't it?" Her voice was hesitant, but she needed to know for sure.

Jareth fell back into his throne again. "Was it?" His face had now become composed again, devoid of any emotion. The mask fell back into place within the blink of an eye. He turned away from her.

Again, she was met with cold silence; and this only enraged Sarah further. How could he be so emotionless, so callous when her insides were tangled in confusion? When her heart couldn't possibly take anymore? Sarah walked right up to his throne without fear this time and looked at him accusingly. "When will you take that mask off?"

He raised an eyebrow indifferently. "Whatever do you mean, my dear?"

"I mean _you_," her voiced echoed throughout the cave. "You act like someone completely different half the time and it gives me a headache! Deep down under your skin I know there's a side of you that you're afraid to show me."

He cast a sharp, almost hostile eye to her. But he said nothing.

Sarah took advantage of this. "I _know_ you've been around for weeks and it's literally made me sick to have you constantlyaround without being seen. You've made me the only person capable of sensing you and everyone else thinks I'm crazy, because of you."

He kept perfectly still. "I think you're suffering from an acute case of paranoia."

"Goddamn you!" she screamed.

He finally leapt forward and in a flash, he had grabbed Sarah by the waist, lifted her up, and tossed her into the throne. Sarah snarled and tried to escape but Jareth trapped her in with his arms, caging her into his own throne. Her eyes shot daggers at his own as she sat back, trying to get as much distance as she could but of course, it was useless.

He leaned forward and Sarah glared up at him; his face was strangely calm but his razor-sharp eyes were betraying him.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Sarah?" He murmured in her ear, producing a crystal in his hand.

"What…?" Sarah blinked and without thinking, looked into the crystal. She saw herself with Bruce on opening night when they were first introduced to each other. Her own image was clear, but seemed lighter than Bruce's form. Then she noticed the slight haze around Bruce's image, as if a fog were encompassing him. She knew right away that something was not right with Bruce. Of course… not everything was as it seemed.

"You see it too, then?" Jareth asked her.

Sarah continued to stare. Not only at Bruce's hazy form, but at the way he was looking at her…

"You're playing a dangerous game, Sarah." Jareth said impatiently when she was silent.

"With Bruce?" she murmured, shrugging. "He seems perfectly harmless." Even she couldn't hide the lie in her voice with _him_ so close.

"No," he snapped. Flicking his wrist, the crystal and the image disappeared. "If you can see it too, then you should have a care with whom you dally with." He smiled coldly, surveying her with hooded eyes. "I doubt that scene was little more than a casual conversation."

"Why the interrogation?" she asked. "Why are you so concerned with Bruce?" And then she suddenly realized why he showed her the scene in his crystal. Her eyes widened slightly as her voice turned quiet, uneasy. "Don't be so quick to jealousy, Goblin King. It was nothing." She needed to change the subject quickly before he or even she, did or said anything rash. "Why was his image blurred in the crystal? What is he hiding?"

Jareth's eyes flickered away, but she felt him tense beside her.

She looked at him warily. "I think you're bluffing."

Jareth's face darkened to a scowl. "It's possible, love, I could be bluffing. But is it truly me you doubt or is it yourself?" he stated matter-of-factly.

"Don't hurt him," she said in a whisper. "Don't let it be like the last time."

His face moved in until his lips were centimeters from hers; his breath drifting over her face. "Do you think me a monster?" he hissed. "Do you still think of me as the villain when I am trying to protect you?"

"Protect me?" she said, her brows furrowing. "Protect me from what?"

"I made a mistake luring you here to this city. Now I see the truth of this place, the corruption, the grime of this city."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. "This _was_ your fault then," she snapped. "And my work, my art, is that a sham too?"

"No," his voice was assuring, honest. He flicked a finger across her cheek. "No, your talent is real. Theater worth seeing is an intimate moment of communication between human beings on the wings of talent. And I believed this place would allow you to grow into your full potential. But now I find I was wrong."

Sarah's fingernails were beginning to claw into the arms of his throne. "You started this," she hissed, "now _you_ have to see it through. I'm not leaving."

He leaned even closer to her. "I am truly no monster, Sarah. I would be damned if I let any harm come to you. It doesn't matter if this Bruce Wayne is trustworthy or not… I would be damned…"

Despite Jareth's words, Sarah knew the terrible cruelty that lurked within him – she had seen it first hand. She turned her face away and spoke with as much composed poise as she could muster. "Let me go."

He laughed softly under his breath. "Am I making you nervous? My being so close?"

Their eyes locked for a long moment, a complete silence in the cave. All that could be heard was her flustered breathing. It was finally Sarah who broke the gaze. "Just let me go, please," she tried again, this time almost desperately.

"To what?" he asked dryly, finally pushing himself away from the arms of the throne. "The world is a cruel and callous place, Sarah. You've seen this first hand."

"I thought we went over this."

"I'm not talking about _that_," he snapped. "I'm talking about people, your society, the way you kill each other and justify it through your wayward laws and morals. You're destroying the world you live in, a world that shelters and nurtures, and you take it all for granted. You keep your own kind sick, poor, and locked away because this is what keeps the powerful and wealthy above the rest."

Sarah stared at him, unblinking. "You think Bruce is like them?"

"He won't have you, Sarah," he promised heartlessly. "He's just as callous and selfish as the next man."

"I never said he could have me!" she said, her green eyes flashing. "And he's not callous… he's misunderstood."

Jareth tensed. "You're defending him."

"Against you?" she asked rhetorically. "Yes, I am."

Jareth exhaled loudly and came to her side again. "He represents the absolute worst in humankind." He scowled darkly. "He is the epitome of what you people adore most of all - greed. All it does is destroy and rebuild in their image, with no place left for you."

"You're not listening to me," she said, gazing up at him. "He's not like that. He was born into it, he didn't climb or claw his way into that position. It was always waiting for him."

"Him and this world will slowly kill you if you stay. Because of what you've done to me, because of _that,_" he pointed to her chest, indicating her diamond, "the choice is now yours to make. I am merely trying to help you see the truth." He narrowed his eyes then. "Do you dare risk your life simply because you have a little grudge against me?"

Sarah glared at him and clutched her diamond, dropping it under the damned white dress she wore. So it was protecting her... from Jareth. Her voice became low, almost cold. "You wasted your time bringing me here."

"You will see," he said, ignoring her, "you will see in time that this is the best and only thing for you." Sarah noted the tension, the near panic in his voice. He was trying to convince himself more than anything that she needed him, that she would be safe only with him.

She shook her head. "You can't hide me from the world. I won't let you do this," she pleaded again. "You have to let me go."

She looked into his pale eyes and the volume of emotion was staggering. Such an intense pain he held… she was sure her fear and her own pain was reflected in his own eyes. He couldn't take her like this, not like this…

Jareth leaned over her suddenly and placed his lips upon her forehead. His mouth lingered and Sarah felt her heartbeat quicken. He then pulled back, skimmed the backs of his fingers across her face and then buried his fingers in her hair.

Her heart thundered in her chest as he ran his long, slender fingers through her hair. His thumb brushed over her ear as it made its way deeper and her breathing quickened. She froze, unable to move. Her heart was pounding madly in her chest. She was afraid, confused and thrilled all at the same time.

His fingers continued their path through her hair, their movements becoming bolder as they occasionally stroked her cheek before delving once again into the deep black locks.

The feel of his fingers in her hair was beyond pleasant, as was his warm lean body nearly against hers. He smelled faintly of sandalwood, leather, and roses. Sarah unconsciously licked her lips.

The action caused Jareth's gaze to be drawn to her mouth and he found himself tilting his head to one side.

"Close your eyes, my love," he said breathlessly.

"Don't…" She feared another spell, and she panicked, trying to pull back but Jareth didn't release her.

"Surrender to me, your dreams, do nothing but be rid of the life you knew. You can start a new life over again…"

She felt the warmth of him as his fingers closed around her. She looked into his alien eyes, then at his smooth creamy skin, his perfect nose and lips. Her eyes roamed, taking in his long straight, blond hair, and his lithe, but strong body. But the Goblin King appeared in turmoil. His brows seemed lowered over his dark eyes and his lips were parted due to his breathing being slightly heavier than normal. His body was tense like a tightly strung bow.

"Sarah… you'll live as you never lived before…"

He was silenced by Sarah's hands cupping his face. He froze as she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips; but there was no fire; her lips were cold and empty.

When Sarah pulled back, Jareth frowned at the sight of a tear forming in the corner of her eye. "I would turn into a bitter shell of a person if you forced me to stay with you," she whispered sadly. "I would hate you, _really_ hate you; and I wouldn't be Sarah anymore."

Jareth's face twisted into a grimace of pain. "I know…" he said, sounding heartbroken.

His shoulders slumped as Sarah allowed tears to fall for several shameless moments.

Then he turned away from her, finally unable to look at her. Sarah jumped a bit in her chair, her nerves on end.

Guilt was quickly overwhelming him. They both knew that he had acted rashly once again, stealing Sarah from the theater when she was vulnerable. He hadn't been thinking; he had merely acted. He couldn't bear the thought of her so close, yet so far away anymore.

Eventually he would bind her to him with no chance of ever returning to this world for long. She would become a trapped bird inside a gilded cage. There would be an inevitable change in Sarah; if he took away her freedom he would destroy her soul. And the fire inside of her that Jareth had fallen in love with in the first place would go out.

He stalked over to her, emotions ranging from anger to love coursing through his veins.

She shrunk back at the look in the eyes, for a moment she thought he was going to strike her or shout in her face. Instead, a crystal began to form almost subconsciously in Jareth's right hand.

They both looked into it before he took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It is my nature as Goblin King. I cannot change into something you want me to be so easily. I will always be what I am."

She lifted her eyes to him. "Would you try and do this again?"

He didn't speak for several beats. But when he did, Jareth could not meet her gaze. He kept his eyes fixed on the clear crystal. "I am what I am."

* * *


	8. Opaque

Sarah awoke with a start.

For a minute, she gazed around her purple and red colored room, not knowing where she was. But then she remembered – Gotham City, pink house, her own bedroom.

She sat up and rubbed her head, remembering how Jareth had kissed her forehead one last time, both aware of how his lips lingered before she pulled away from him.

He frowned before he said, "I will take you home now before anyone misses you."

Then darkness.

She was pretty disturbed at the fact that she didn't remember anything in between – how she got to his underground hideaway and how she got out. However, she knew he wouldn't dare take advantage of her otherwise. Jareth was the type that wanted a willing participant. She could just see him scoffing at the idea of it.

Sarah swung her legs over and looked down at herself. She sighed and pinched the fabric of the same clothes she had worn before…

"Ugh!" Sarah threw herself back on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

She had forgotten all about Bruce. Granted she was able to get out of being his arm candy for the night, but if he came back to an empty dressing room, he must have been worried sick, completely insulted, or both.

And then she remembered his image in the crystal; how it seemed dim and blurred, like he was an imposter of who he truly was. He was hiding something under that façade…

"UGH!" She cried out again, her hands rubbing furiously against her face now. Angry or no, Bruce was technically her superior and he may have seen her disappearance as a personal affront. She shuddered to think what his reaction might be. Would he bring it up to Alexandra? Would he try and confront her again? Or what if he had such a sensitive ego he would try and fire her from the Company so fast it would make her head spin. That was the worst possible consequence and unfortunately, completely plausible.

Sarah cursed as she attempted to make her bed, which only resulted in rumpled blankets strewn carelessly aside. She knew she personally had to fix this mess Jareth had made. Before she left for the bathroom, she stopped at the window overlooking the garden courtyard. She flinched slightly. She could have sworn the stone angel was facing a different direction…

"Damn you, Jareth."

* * *

Standing outside Wayne Tower looking up, Sarah felt a shrill of excitement and unease brutally jumping from nerve ending to nerve ending. This building was massive; quite a bit larger than any she had walked past since she had been here. Looking all the way up, she found herself trying to count all the way up to the top floor. She gave up somewhere around the 25th. The view must be absolutely spectacular from the top. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head around and briefly thought about turning back.

No. She needed to do this.

However, she couldn't deny that this was indeed dangerous for both her reputation and for Bruce's safety. Jareth more than likely knew where she was and what she was about to do. But she believed enough in herself that she could do this. She got through a Labyrinth in less than thirteen hours, didn't she?

Gathering her nerve, Sarah walked to the entrance of the building and slowly pulled open one of the glass doors that encased almost the whole ground floor. The lobby area was quite impressive; granite floors, beautifully Gothic crown molding; mahogany front desk. Sarah realized that this was one of the most beautiful lobbies she had probably ever walked through; even more so than she had seen in Metropolis.

She instantly became aware of the hustle and bustle around her. There was so much going on. A couple of men and women were standing by an ivory striped couch discussing something very animatedly, and eliciting the boisterous laughter of the partakers. A few people were draped around the lounge on cell phones. And then, of course, there was the constant flow of people in and out of the building.

Looking around, Sarah was unsure of where to go--the lobby was not only lavishly decorated, but it was intricately designed, as well. To her left was the main desk made of mahogany. To her right was a lavish sitting area with, what appeared to be, a small café behind the said corner. Straight ahead was a beautiful fountain, the sound of falling water carrying throughout the place. For some, the soft resonance of water fell on absent ears. But for Sarah, the sound alone brought images of a peaceful, untouched place; somewhere with immense waterfalls and snow-capped mountains. The vision lifted her heart and sent her spirits higher.

More sure of herself now, she started out on her trek to find an elevator. She walked around the front desk and rounded the corner when she was abruptly stopped by a rather large, intimidating figure in a security guard uniform. He was holding some sort of electronic device in one hand and holding his other hand out to stop her.

"Identification, please." The man even had an intimidating voice: deep and smooth, but not to be messed with. Sarah froze, nearly losing her nerve. The man, whose name tag read "Mac", just stared back at her. She opened up her messenger bag with a trembling hand and searched through it until she found her wallet. She pulled the wallet open and flipped the ID holder down to show Mac.

"Could you please remove the Identification Card from your wallet, miss?"

"Oh, right, sorry." She grasped the ID holder and pulled the card out from its cradle. Mac smiled at her. But it did nothing to ease the tension that began to twist in her stomach. She didn't have an appointment with Bruce and it definitely would look suspicious not to mention juvenile if she grabbed her ID card and ran for it.

"First time inside Wayne Tower?"

Sarah looked up at him, wondering if he stopped everyone or if she was just looking especially apprehensive that day. The latter was most likely the case. "Yes, it is. I never realized how huge this building was… is."

Mac swiped her card through his machine. "If you think this is overwhelming, just wait 'til you see the rest of the building." Beeping could be heard from the machine and Mac began to read the information provided by the electronic device. Mac suddenly frowned when the beeping stopped. "What's your reason for visiting the Tower today, miss?"

She fought the urge to panic. This was a really bad idea…

"I'm here to meet with Bruce Wayne," Sarah said in her most confident voice.

Mac scrolled through something on the device again then looked up at Sarah with a scowl.

"What is your name, miss?"

"Sarah Williams."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid you're not on here. Did you have an appointment?"

Sarah's palms began to dampen. "No… I…"

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you."

"Well, see, Mr. Wayne has been expecting me…"

"I'm sorry, miss. But as you can see, Mr. Wayne is a very busy man and cannot be bothered."

"Look," Sarah reached into her bag. "I have one of his cards…"

"Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Sarah?" A low, melodious startled Sarah at the sound of her name, and she abruptly turned to face Bruce himself addressing her. His face displayed a pleased kind of surprise with his cool smile plastered across it. She always seemed to forget how good looking he was; and for a moment her mind became blank.

"Sarah," his eyes roamed over her face, "what are you doing here?" Bruce smiled at her and she returned the gesture. He glanced at Mac. "It's alright," he assured. "She's with me."

"Oh," Mac stepped back, "of course, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce cupped Sarah's elbow with his hand and pulled her gently into the lobby. "Sarah, it's a pleasure to see you again. I was worried when you disappeared last night. I apologize if I scared you away."

"_Do this right, Sarah…" _

She mentally gathered her courage along with her natural-born talent for a great performance. "No, I'm here to apologize to you," she said demurely.

"Really?" his smile grew wider.

"Yes, how can I make it up to you?"

* * *

Bruce Wayne sauntered down the staircase of his penthouse feeling a little more than groggy, but trying fervently to fight back the weariness. Though he hadn't gone out as his dark-armored alter ego the night before, he had reluctantly gone out to eat and drink at a cocktail party held by a person whose name he had long since forgotten and was escorted by a long-legged brunette whose name he never really caught. It made no difference, his mind was elsewhere. He was expecting company in the afternoon.

Bruce made his way into the kitchen and was greeted by his rather old, but loyal companion.

"Good morning, Master Bruce."

"Morning, Alfred." Bruce aggressively rubbed his face with his hand in a vain attempt to rub out the fatigue.

Alfred only half-smiled. His admiration and respect gave him much pride for the boy he had known since he was born. Bruce was not only one of the most disciplined and well-trained men he knew, but also the most intelligent and dedicated.

Bruce walked around the island that was in the middle of the kitchen and opened a cabinet door to reach in and grab a coffee mug. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he took a long look out the window over the sink. "Looks like rain again today." Alfred turned around to look out the window as well, already aware of the weather.

"Yes, sir. I took the liberty of placing an umbrella in one of your cars."

Bruce laughed at that. "Batman doesn't walk around with an umbrella."

"Indeed not, sir, but Bruce Wayne does, especially when he is escorting a very pretty young woman around Gotham City."

"We're not going out, Alfred. She's coming here." He turned to face Alfred who was staring at him in return.

"Here, sir?"

"She's a bit paranoid about being seen in public with me." He took a long sip of coffee. "I was wrong to try and force to go out with me the other night."

"What exactly did happen that night, sir?"

He shook his head. "I'm not really sure. I came back to her dressing room and the room was locked. I knocked and called for her but no one answered. The strange thing is I would have seen her sneak out of the theater."

"You think you would have seen her leave or did she truly outwit the great and powerful Bruce Wayne?" Bruce glared at him, but Alfred wasn't fazed. "Well, what was her reasoning?"

Bruce gazed out his window. "I know her reasoning. It was the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And what about the bracelet you mentioned? Any new developments?"

"I've seen that design before," Bruce said, frowning deeply. "I'll have to look into it further. But I have my suspicions."

Alfred caught that tone in his young master's voice. He wouldn't push the matter any further. "Well, sir, I'm simply more amazed at the fact that you are willing to bring her here so quickly."

"It won't be a fancy dinner," Bruce answered nonchalantly. "Just lunch."

"It works out well for the both of you then, I suppose?" Bruce nodded. They both knew he had to become Batman tonight. "Well then," Alfred continued, "shall I call the young miss and remind her of your plans before the afternoon?"

Bruce shook his head before draining the remaining contents of his cup down his throat. "That won't be necessary, Alfred," he said before he left the kitchen and walked back up the main stairwell.

He didn't think that Sarah would forget; she was the one who had sought him out. He thought it was a bit flattering even after the strange mishap the other night. What _did_ happen that night? It was a mystery even he had trouble figuring out. Despite Alfred's chiding, there really was no possible way Sarah could have snuck out without him knowing – he was right outside her dressing room the whole time. His plan was either to catch her if she tried to leave or to escort her to dinner like the gentleman he was.

He scoffed at the idea that he was a perfect gentleman. He had least offered to take her to the Everest Room; he had never taken anyone there on a date before, that definitely meant something to him. But perhaps he really was too forward that night. Perhaps she was scared enough to lock herself in that room for hours until he finally gave up.

And now he was actually a little nervous about today, which was something that he couldn't quite figure out. He was never nervous. Instead, he had trained himself to remain steadily cool in most situations. However, he found that all his training and practice was useless in midst of a certain young woman, of which even he was baffled. What was it about Sarah that had him all riled up? He had been on dates with more women than he could count. But this woman was commanding his respect, something he had not encountered in a long time. She held herself with such maturity and self-respect, and she was bold enough to meet with him in Wayne Tower, she certainly had courage, as well.

All in all, when he compared Sarah to the other women he had to surround himself with; it was easy to see how much of an old soul she had. This may have been why he felt so differently around her; almost like he could be the Bruce Wayne he actually was beneath the façade he played. Although, ironically, as much as he still resented attending the theater and despite the role of the irresponsible, superficial playboy he had to portray – they really were both fine actors. And hopefully, Sarah wasn't just playing a part with him, either.

* * *

After Sarah had showered, and blow dried her hair into something that looked reasonably stylish, she put on a pair of nice slacks and a floaty chemise top. The soft, moss green fabric of her blouse was reminiscent of English net over a shirred empire bodice with sheer cap sleeves. Her shoes were strappy and casual but still had the slight heel to them. Her makeup was simple, but it brought out the right amount of glow to her face. She didn't want to overdo it too much, it was only lunch. But it was lunch with Bruce Wayne.

Part of her wished she hadn't insisted on a private date, but she had to keep her public reputation intact; she didn't want anyone knowing about this. Although, she would by no means risk her own values and morals just for keeping maintaining her public status; and her job for that matter. Alexandra would be absolutely livid if she ever found out. After 'Pygmalion' was done she would probably throw Sarah straight out of the Company anyway if this ever got out.

She was a bit surprised when he agreed to bring her to his penthouse for a first… she really did not want to call it a date, but the way she was dressed and did her hair and makeup, it certainly was looking like it. That was what Bruce wanted in the first place, wasn't it? But she wasn't another one of his arm candies that he could show around the city. She was going to prove to him that she was different, that she was an intelligent and responsible woman who could definitely hold her own.

The silver chain caught in the sunlight as she turned to her jewelry box. She would wear her diamond pendant the way she always wore it – the diamond was safe against her skin, away from public view while only the chain was visible. Her hands shook as she fumbled through her things, looking for the right earrings to wear. Despite the normal jitters, she knew in the back of her mind that she was risking so much by doing this; definitely biting off more than she could chew. Her job was at stake, her reputation in the public eye and with Bruce… But worst of all, she was taking a great risk with Bruce's safety, perhaps even his life. She knew how severely jealous Jareth could be and just by having a casual lunch with another man, a mortal, could put Bruce in considerable danger.

After she pushed the last silver bracelet on her wrist, Sarah turned to look at herself in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her held all the natural sensuous and romanticism of an angel fallen to Earth. Her skin was strangely radiant in the delicate green top she had chosen. Taking a closer look, she was beginning to think that this perhaps was not the best choice of color – it brought out the color of her eyes far too much.

"Ooh," Bianca appeared in the doorway. "You do look quite the coquette." Her gaze drifted over Sarah's reflection, studying her with a critical eye. "You're not going to wear your hair like that, are you?"

Sarah turned her head to look at the ponytail more closely. "Does it look right?"

"Not really." Bianca came to her side, reached up, and pulled the elastic out of Sarah's hair. Her black strands fell out over her shoulders, which had become longer and thicker than it had been a year ago. Bianca fluffed out Sarah's hair with her fingers. "Where are you going again?"

"On a date," Sarah answered evenly.

"Really?" Bianca smirked, "with whom? Anyone we know?"

"Nope," Sarah replied, "someone I met at a coffee shop."

"Hmm," Bianca didn't sound convinced, but she dropped the subject anyway. "Well, I hope you two have fun regardless." No sooner had Bianca said this, a loud knock at the front door sounded. "Oh, I want to see him!"

Sarah couldn't stop her in time. Bianca ran out of the bedroom and into the hallway to get a better look.

"Dammit!" Sarah hissed, and ran after Bianca. They both stopped and looked out of the window at the street below.

A regal, black car was parked on the street in front of their pink house. The man who was knocking on the door was not Bruce but a much older man with white hair bundled in a brown coat with a scarf wrapped securely around his neck.

Bruce had told her that he would be preoccupied with business in the morning and that he would send his driver to her apartment at noon. But of course, Bianca didn't know any of this.

"Please don't tell me that's your date," Bianca told her.

Sarah didn't say anything, but huffed back to her room to grab her coat.

Bianca followed her and watched from the doorway as Sarah nervously smoothed out her hair and clothes again. "Does Alex know?" Bianca asked her quietly.

Sarah glanced over at her cast mate. Bianca wasn't stupid, she knew who Sarah was meeting with today. She exhaled loudly. "It's just a lunch date," she shrugged her coat on, "look, it's not a big deal –"

"Don't worry about it, hun," Bianca said. "I think Alex is taking this issue way too seriously and you shouldn't let it get to you." She beamed at Sarah, although there was that hint of jealous surprise in her voice. "I mean this is Bruce freakin' Wayne for God's sake, go out and enjoy yourself!"

Sarah smiled weakly and shook her head. She should enjoy herself, but she just couldn't escape that nagging feeling about Bruce…

Yet, in less than a minute, she found herself thanking Bianca before she brushed past her and ran downstairs to the front door after she heard a second, rather impatient knock.

Sarah watched her feet the whole way down for fear she would trip on her heeled shoes. When she finally opened the front door, the chauffer smiled warmly at Sarah in greeting, and she returned the gesture with sincerity. He was an older, silver haired man with clear, blue eyes. Eyes that were so very much like someone else she once knew…

"Miss Williams?" he asked her politely.

"Yes, that's me."

"My name is Alfred. I'll be taking you to Master Wayne's penthouse this afternoon."

Of course, Bruce Wayne would have a chauffer. All the same, she was not used to that kind of treatment at all – being escorted, chauffeured to lunch by a personal driver...

"Oh, thank you."

"Shall we, miss Williams?"

Sarah's smile grew wider. His accent was undoubtedly a familiar English she was accustomed to hearing as of late. But much different from the silky, enticing tones of the Goblin King's. Alfred helped her into the car before he settled himself into the driver's seat.

As they drove away, she glanced out the window nervously, watching her place disappear into the distance. No doubt Bianca was watching her leave with that barely concealed envy in her eye. She shuddered. Alfred had seen the pink house. Did he know what it once was? She mentally shook herself; that was by far the least of her worries. Where was she going? What was she doing? Why did Bruce want anything to do with her?

"Excuse me," Sarah leaned forward in her seat. "Mr…?"

The kindly old man looked at her in the rearview mirror. "My name is Alfred, miss. Just Alfred."

"Oh." Sarah sat perfectly upright and completely tense as she gazed out the window. "Where exactly are we going?" She tried to hide the trepidation in her voice.

Alfred looked up in the mirror once more. He may have seen the worried expression on Sarah's face – his voice had softened considerably. "Not to worry, miss. Master Wayne's penthouse is not too far from the Washington Centre."

She turned back to him and gave him a small smile, secretly hoping he wasn't going to drive her outside of the city and then God only knew what. Then she remembered that the only people who knew of their date were herself, Bruce, and Alfred. If the unthinkable should happen, then no one would know what had happened to her, where she was going or who she was going to be with.

Yet, as Sarah cast her green eyes upon Alfred, she instinctively knew he would never even dream of harming her. Her sensitive intuition told her this. The car turned sharply and she was jostled from her reverie.

"We're almost there," Alfred said smoothly.

Finally, Alfred began to slow the car as they turned and drove down one of the nicest streets in Gotham City. Sarah turned away from the window to seek out their destination. What she saw caused her to shrink back into her seat; her self-conscious thoughts roaring back into her head. She forced herself to stare at her lap, but as the car came to a stop, she had look back up at the modern castle that towered before her. They were in front of the massive, opulent stateliness that was the Wayne Foundation Building. Sarah had marveled at the tower among the other modern glass skyscrapers that made up the Gotham skyline when she first arrived.

The three-sided glass courtyard they pulled into seemed to trap her in, with nowhere to go but inside the place Bruce Wayne called a home. There were at least thirty stories to the hotel alone – soaring over her, confining her to its daunting stature. Sarah hardly noticed Alfred opening her door and offering his hand. She stared at it numbly before she clasped his leather-clad hand with her own. He helped her out of the car and shut the door behind her.

"This way, miss Williams." Alfred gently laid one hand on her back as his free one beckoned her forward.

Alfred led her up to the giant glass entrance and two men standing watch opened the doors for the both of them. She slowly stepped inside, her footsteps upon the rich marble floor echoing all around her. The interior of the lobby was like stepping into another world – far too elegant and out of reach even for her wild imagination. The lobby was fitted out in so much gold leaf she could have probably plastered all the walls of her home with it and more. Dozens of crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings and thousands of square meters of Italian marble was laid on the massive floor. Seeing pictures of palaces like this in Europe was one thing, but to see it with her own eyes was extraordinary… and overwhelming.

"I believe Master Wayne has just arrived." Alfred said as he escorted her to an elevator with platinum doors. "He'll be waiting for you in his dining room."

"Oh," Sarah barely managed to turn her head away from the palace surrounding her, "alright." She had the distinct feeling the staff here was hand picked whom catered to their guest's every whim at all hours of the day and night. A trio of musicians began to play a classical piece not far from the lounge area to entertain the few distinguished guests sitting.

"May I take your coat, miss?"

Alfred's cheery voice brought her back to reality. He said it so formally, like he had said it so many times before. How many people had come through these halls? How many parties had been thrown here? How many women had Bruce had over?

The elevator doors had just opened. They both stepped inside and Sarah shrugged off her coat. "Oh, yes thank you."

Alfred took her coat and smiled. "Are you new to Gotham City, miss?"

Sarah nodded as she kept her eyes fixed on Alfred, not at all liking her sharp reflection in all sides of the elevator. It felt too familiar.

"Yes," she said, studying Alfred. She already liked the older man. He reminded her of her English teacher from high school. Mr. Caine was the one who had encouraged her acting and had given her a copy of Sir Thomas Malory's 'Le Morte de Arthur' when she told him she had lost it over summer break. He had been very wise, very patient and very charming.

"How long have you been in Gotham City for?" she asked him.

He laughed. "Well over thirty years, I believe."

"That's quite a long time. Have you been working for Mr. Wayne this whole time?"

He nodded and then frowned, lowering his face. "Yes, I've been working for the Wayne family for a long time."

Sarah shifted her weight. Bruce had a family here? Odd that he had never mentioned them before. "Oh…" she wanted to ask about his family but she was cut short by the opening of the elevator doors.

Alfred held out his hand, indicating ladies first. "This way, miss."

Sarah stepped out cautiously and Alfred led her down a long hallway filled with paintings. As she followed Alfred through the penthouse, Sarah noticed that even though this place may have seemed like a palace to the outside world, this was Bruce's home and there was still the sentiment of convenience and comfort being a priority. Even if that priority were thirty foot floor-to-ceiling windows with cream low-slung modernist sofas, and a dinner party–sized dining table. Worst (or best, depending on how one looked at it) of all was the enormous terrace - ideal for continuing the party after a swim in the outdoor pool.

"In this room, miss Williams." Alfred led her to the dining room looking out over the Gotham River. In fact, the entire penthouse had a magnificent view of the River and half of the skyline.

A table for two was set next on the table complete with crystal glasses and immaculately white china plates.

"I will return with lunch when Master Wayne comes to join you," Alfred said. "Do you need anything at the moment, miss?"

She gave him a genuine smile. This man was kind and she respected him wholeheartedly. "No thank you, Alfred. I'll be fine."

Alfred inclined his head to her and smiled. "Very well then, miss." He then left the room and disappeared around the corner.

Sarah sighed and smoothed her hair with her hands. How typical of a rich, young playboy to make _her_ wait. It should have been the other way around. However, she was in his home based on her terms for privacy.

She let her eyes wander as she slowly wandered around the table, afraid to sit down without her host. She brushed past the table and stood in front of the window. She could see the busy streets down below filled with people, buses, vendors, and cars. The bridge over the river, the ferries traveling across the water, the courthouse, the domed sporting complex, the River Walk, the Crystal Palace mall, the Kronos building…

"Do you like it?"

Sarah started at the sound of Bruce's voice, but managed to smile when she turned to him. Without a formal business suit he was more handsome than ever in a crisp, button-up shirt with sleeves that were rolled casually up to his elbows. His hands were placed unceremoniously in his pockets, as usual.

"Like what?" Sarah asked, her heart skipping a beat.

He blinked several times and smiled. "The view."

"Oh," Sarah felt herself blushing. Of course, the view, what else? "Yes, it's amazing."

"I hoped we would be dining outside on the veranda today, but the weather has not improved yet. Perhaps by next month the sun will finally come out." He noticed Sarah studying his attire, and he stood up straighter with the ever-present smirk on his striking face. "I thought I would change before we had lunch." He pulled her chair out for her. "Shall we?"

She smiled and sat in the offered seat, demurely placing the white napkin on her lap and smoothing it out. He sat next to her smiling, and she smiled with him. "Your home is beautiful…" Oh dear. Should she call him Mr. Wayne or Bruce? Calling him by his first name would be typical but intimate, and calling him by his last name may offend him. "…Bruce." She finished her sentence with averted eyes.

Bruce simply watched her with detached amusement while lifting a glass of white wine to his lips. "Thank you. It is beautiful," he agreed, his eyes on Sarah, "And so is my date."


	9. Bound

Sarah took another sip from her glass of wine as she looked at her date. Bruce Wayne had proven to be quite the man. She had already known him to be charming and intelligent in some respects, but he was also quite the debonair - and just as ostentatious. And easily one of the most attractive men she had ever been on date with. In fact, she felt like he was very much out of her league and wondered why he decided to take _her_ out, when it was obvious that he could have just about any woman he wanted. She tried to push the self-conscious thoughts from her mind as he smiled over at her.

"Now what about you?" she began. "I've told you almost everything about my family; my very boring upbringing in Upper State New York. What about yours?"

Bruce eyed her from across the table, a slight frown forming on his lips. "Well, that would be because there really isn't much to tell, in that respect." Sarah arched an eyebrow in response, and his frown only became deeper. "How often do you actually read the papers, Sarah?"

Sarah blinked, taken aback by his curt response. "As often as I can."

"_If I see a familiar face on the front page…"_

Bruce took a swill of wine before clearing his throat. "I've been living in the public eye for as long as I can remember. It was all over the papers when it happened…" His voice trailed off and finally dimmed under the sorrow of his troubled eyes.

Sarah shifted in her chair uneasily. "When what happened?"

"My parents passed a long time ago." Was all he said, and looked as if it were all he cared to say.

Sarah stared at him. Damn… she didn't know. That's why he had never mentioned his family before. She never would have brought it up if she did know. Her eyes softened sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Bruce. I didn't know…"

"You're probably the only person in Gotham who doesn't." He took another mouthful of wine.

Her voice remained soft, trying to move away from the subject of his parents. "I just moved here, remember?"

"That's right." He seemed as if he wanted to perk up, but Sarah could tell it was a strain. "You grew up outside of New York. And from there?"

"Metropolis… I think I already mentioned it." But very briefly. She really didn't want to get into _that_ too much.

"Right," he said quietly, a somber haze returning to his already stormy eyes. "Sorry..."

Sarah reached over and she placed one hand over his, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, Bruce," she nearly whispered. "You don't have to tell me anything." The death of his parents was obviously a devastating loss to him. She could see it in his eyes, in his whole being. He was definitely not trying to get sympathy from her. He was still truly hurting from the memory. No matter how long ago it was.

He smiled unevenly, clearly trying to mentally shake the old memory. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "So, Metropolis?" he asked, setting his empty wineglass on the table. "Did you ever run into the Man of Steel before he left?"

Sarah pulled her hand away and shrugged, pushing her food around absently. "Once or twice."

"Really?" By the sound of his voice, he actually sounded interested and not as if he was humoring her at all. "Do tell."

"There's nothing much to tell," she replied flippantly.

"Well, there must be something. I mean, how did it work with him? He would just show up whenever someone was in trouble… just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Must be nice to fly around all day. Saving the world, listening to the cries of cheering children and swooning women all the time. And all those powers… it's a wonder he didn't use them to their full advantage…"

"Let me ask you something." Sarah nearly threw her fork down and scowled at her lunch date. "Did you ever once lose faith in him when General Zod took over?"

"I remember that," he said, nodding his head. He considered for a moment and cast his eyes down, staring at his plate. "I did at first. But he defeated them, or so he said, and for a while, everything was back to normal." His voice changed considerably to something that sounded like hidden scorn. "But now he's gone… again."

"Maybe he had a reason for leaving. Maybe he felt _unappreciated_." She directed the last word toward Bruce with unconcealed intensity. Bruce chewed his food silently, but she could swear that she could see a hint of crimson on his fine cheeks.

"And now we have a man who dresses up like a giant bat," he said, still looking away from her.

"Still, he does his job, doesn't he?" Sarah admitted, but more to herself. "Taking care of Gotham; the criminals, the crooked police force, he's doing a service for people who cried out for a change. Although, more than anything, I think he's just a theatrical vigilante. Don't get me wrong. But what Batman has to deal with here is not nearly as dangerous as what Superman had to face."

"Yes," Bruce agreed. "But only now we have something else to fight. It's not world domination or enslavement of the human race. This is something much more real that Gotham has had to face everyday."

Sarah ducked her head. Bruce had a point. Superman could fight against evil villains who seemed like they came right out one of the many comic books Toby had on the room of his floor. But Batman was a mortal; he was a man. He was fighting evils that came from the dark alley down the street from where you slept at night. She supposed both Batman and Superman served their own purpose. Perhaps it was the mask Batman wore that unnerved her… or it was the man himself who had the nerves of steel to take on the darkness of Gotham City.

"Where do you think he flew off to?" Bruce asked after Sarah remained silent.

"I wish I knew," she lied.

"Do you think he'll be coming back?"

A weak smile crossed her face. "One can only hope."

Bruce watched her eat her food for a moment, and then shifted in his seat. "You know, I'm going on a business trip to Metropolis in a couple of weeks, would you…"

Just then, Alfred came striding into the room. Sarah looked up and felt a little more than guilty when the kindly old man began to serve their lunch earlier. But he did it with such ease and charisma; she could tell he had been doing this his whole life and never once complained.

"Pardon my intrusion, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "But it seems something has come up at Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Fox is waiting on the line for you, sir."

"Oh?" Bruce sat back into his chair.

"Yes, sir. About the equipment you ordered last week. He says there's a slight glitch."

Bruce made a sound in the back of his throat. "That doesn't sound good." He brought his napkin up to his lips before he placed it unto the table. "My apologies, Sarah." He sat up from his chair and reached for her hand. "I think I may have to go down to the Tower for this one."

"Oh… alright."

Bruce must have caught the look of disappointment on Sarah's face – no one had ever left her in the middle of a date before. He took both of her hands in his and gazed down at her. He brought her hands up to his lips, his powerful gaze; the eyes she met opening night at the theater, never left hers. "I am so sorry, Sarah." The touch of his soft lips on her hands stayed with her until well after Bruce walked out of the room.

Sarah was at a loss for words. One minute she was discussing Superman with Bruce and the next she was sitting alone staring at an empty seat. She looked over at Alfred, his expression was vacant but there was the slightest hint of guilt in his blue eyes.

He stepped over to her side. "Shall I remove these plates, miss?"

"Yes, I'm finished." She gently put her napkin on the table. "Alfred, you look after everything all by yourself? No one else works for Mr. Wayne?"

"None, miss."

"How do you do it? This place is unbelievable; his manor must be a castle!" She immediately bit her lip. "Or must have been…" She had been so taken and swept up by the penthouse alone that she forgot about the state of the manor.

Alfred caught the flush in her cheeks, but smiled knowingly. "Not to worry, miss. I get by. Years of practice."

Alfred's genial smile grew wider and she returned the kind gesture before he turned and walked out of the room.

Sarah sighed dismally when she was left alone again. She gazed around the dining room and over the walls and the ceiling. How could Bruce live alone in a place like this? Even with Alfred here as his personal butler, he still must be lonely quite often, especially at the manor. Particularly with the memory of his parents – the manor was once their home. Perhaps that's why he burned it down in the first place. She couldn't imagine a life growing up without her father, even Karen. She thought of how lucky Toby was to have loving, doting parents with him everyday of his life… her heart suddenly filled with pity for Bruce.

But then she shook her head, confused. Bruce didn't seem like the type of person who burned his home to ash, and he certainly didn't seem to be the type who hid a dark secret.

"_Appearances can be deceiving,"_ a little voice in the back of her head whispered. _"Don't you remember how well Clark hid his disguise?"_

She scowled and sank deeper into her chair. She still couldn't believe she was thrown off by a pair of glasses.

But _why _did Bruce want to burn it, and then set to re-building it right away? Perhaps it truly was an accident. Perhaps not…

"Miss Williams?"

Sarah blinked up at Alfred, who was staring down at her curiously.

"The car is ready to take you back home if you are."

"Oh," she sat up in her chair, glanced out the window, and back at Alfred. "Would you mind dropping me off at the park?"

Alfred glanced out the window as well. "Are you sure, miss? The park is rather far from Coley Square and it looks like rain."

She shrugged her shoulders as she stood up. "I don't mind. I think I need some fresh air."

He nodded. "If you're sure, miss. I'll get your coat."

* * *

Alfred and Sarah made small talk in the black car before pulling up to the entrance of the park. He rushed out and opened the door for her, offering her his hand.

"Thank you, Alfred," she said gently as she stepped onto the curb.

"Last chance, miss," Alfred offered, "I'll be more than happy to see you home safe."

"I have quite a few more hours of daylight left. Thank you again."

She began to turn from him when Alfred stopped her with his kind, quiet voice. "Mr. Wayne wanted me to inform you that he had a lovely time this afternoon."

Sarah met his clear blue eyes. He was telling the truth.

He nodded. "I fancy we shall meet again soon, miss Williams."

Her smile became wider, but she did not answer. She turned and walked rather quickly into the main park. As she heard Alfred pull the car away, she looked down at her feet and scowled. She hadn't forgotten she was still wearing her heels, but she couldn't go back home, not yet. Besides, she hadn't gotten a chance to explore Gotham City Park yet.

She heard the sound of birds and the rustle of the wind, and she turned her head to the Japanese Tea Garden just across from her. She smiled faintly as each of her senses picked up everything at the sight of the towering red pagoda against the open sky. In the beginning, she found it odd and somewhat frightening at how everything seemed more intense when all of her senses became magnified. But now, she thought herself fortunate and blessed to have such heightened senses. Her ears picked up the sound of the soft breeze, each breath that she took, and the rustle of fabric when she moved. Breathing in heavily she could smell the faint fragrance of various flowers and cool water.

Sarah instinctively changed direction and made her way to the garden entrance. She paid the admission fee and began to stroll through the garden, smiling at the scene that greeted her. The large, manicured garden spread out before her yielding an abundance of flowers and garden had a rather eclectic and prominent collection of a high drum bridge, a five-story red pagoda, a Zen garden, a chain of ponds, a teahouse, a large bronze Buddha and numerous lanterns and other fixtures. They were all picturesquely placed just right.

And she came at just the right time of the year. Even though she had missed the Japanese maple leaves turn into its vivid autumnal colors, the fresh young leaves of spring were a delicate green. The wisteria and the tree peonies were just beginning to blossom and the cherry blossoms were closely following.

Sarah marveled at the cherry trees in this garden of sub-gardens. There must have been hundreds! Oh, to see them all in full bloom must be the purest form of natural magic in this world.

The air was cool against her skin, soothing and refreshing. Walking amongst the gravel path that swayed throughout the gardens, Sarah contentedly took in her surroundings. For the first time within the last few days she actually felt calm, revived. She remembered feeling this way before, years ago during that school trip to California. There, in that valley where Jareth had taken her and where she had that very vivid out-of-body experience, was the only place in the world where she felt real magic. Magic she hadn't felt since she had been in the Underground. But Jareth had told her that that place was indeed overflowing with ancient magic – magic older than himself. This was one of those places – a place of man-made magic.

Sarah sat down on a bench and took in the sights, smells, and sounds around her. But her eyes became fixed on a wooden image of Buddha housed under an open pavilion on the other end of the garden. She marveled at the simplicity, uniqueness, and serenity of its meditative stance. She wished she could be as still as that sometimes…

"Is this seat taken?"

Sarah looked up and gazed into the face of an older, distinguished looking man. He was tall with dark hair just beginning to gray, and gray-blue eyes.

She shook her head. "Uh, no," she moved over just slightly to give him enough room. "Go ahead."

The man nodded and smiled. "Thank you." He sat down with a sigh. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Every other bench is taken."

"Not at all." Sarah turned back to the scenery before them, and it wasn't long before the man began to strike a conversation with her.

"Beautiful here, isn't it?" he asked her.

Sarah nodded. "Yes, it's gorgeous. I was just thinking how beautiful it will be in a couple of weeks with the cherry blossoms."

He smiled. "Oh, it will be. You know that there are a thousand cherry trees here." Sarah raised her eyebrows and turned her head to him again. "That many?"

"That number is very… felicitous in Japanese culture. Some of the oldest cherry trees in Japan are of this type, with certain ones exceeding a thousand years in age," he told her, his eyes sparkling.

Sarah knew that tone of voice in people. He was trying to impress her with his knowledge of the gardens, and she would go along with it, but not without a facetious grin on her face. "Really?" she said.

"Actually, my favorite time to be here is in the fall. The maple trees turn into glowing crimson and oranges, and turn this place is ablaze with color beyond description of words."

She blinked slowly and turned her head to the maple trees, still smiling. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"I know you."

Her smile immediately dropped as she stared back at him. She didn't know or even recognize this man. She couldn't hide the apprehension in her voice. "You do?"

His constant smile was not completely reassuring. "You're Sarah Williams. The lead in the Bella Tragedia Company."

"I'm not a lead in the Company," she murmured, "just the play."

"Which I enjoyed immensely," he said smoothly. "You certainly light up the stage."

She shrugged indifferently. "Well, thank you…" she paused, opening and closing her mouth, "I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"Salvatore Maroni."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Maroni," Sarah managed another smile, but it wasn't as genuine as the rest had been.

"Very nice to meet you too."

Sarah suddenly stood up and shoved her hands in her coat pockets. There was something about this man that seemed off. She could only describe it in one word – shady. She could tell from his nice suit, his looks, and in his shrewd smile that something was not right about this Salvatore Maroni. She felt that the sooner she got away from him the better.

"I'd better get going," she said. "It's getting late."

He nodded, the amused look in his eye never fading. "I hope to see you again soon."

She silently prayed that would never happen. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon." With that, she turned and walked through the rest of the garden, admiring it with quick glances and sadly never stopping to appreciate it. As she exited the high walls of the garden, she decided she would take a taxi back to her house instead of walking all the way back.

The very real dangers of Gotham City suddenly seemed to close in around her.


	10. Darkness Falls

With a shuddering sigh, Sarah sank into her bed. Stretching out her legs, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. What a day she had. Her date with Bruce wasn't the best she had, but she really didn't expect it to be. All they did was talk of her and Superman; she made a fool of herself when she brought up his parents, whom were dead and gone, and he evidently still missed very much. And to top it off, he left their date early and clearly in a rush.

Now more than ever, she needed the peace and quiet that she couldn't even get in the Japanese Tea Garden; and what should have been a pleasant afternoon in the garden ended up being the worst part of her day.

Her phone suddenly rang, jostling her out of the beginnings of her meditation. She did not want to get up, but something was telling her to answer the call. She rolled over in bed and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she asked into the phone, her voice tired and irritable.

"Sarah?" It was her father.

"Oh, hi Dad." She groaned audibly as she settled herself back into her chair.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah…" she rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand, "why?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see how you're doing…"

Sarah and her father continued to make small talk for the next fifteen minutes, with Sarah's father talking throughout most of their conversation. Until finally, her father handed the telephone to Toby.

"Hey, Sarah!" Her little brother sounded completely out of breath.

"Hey Toby, what's new with you?"

"I've got loads to tell you… hang on." On the other end, it sounded like Toby grappled with the phone until the distant sounds of her household were finally shut out with the slam of a door. "Ok, you're never going to guess whose back!"

Sarah sat up in bed. "Who?"

"Titch and Boon!"

Sarah froze, shock pouring over her like water. Titch and Boon were his goblin friends when she moved to Metropolis. They saved his life once before, and their King ordered them back to the Underground when she banished him… or so she thought.

"Are-are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"Course I'm sure! And they brought friends with them…"

"Friends? Wait, Toby, what friends?"

"Lots of little creatures like them, they all call themselves goblins. But there are three more who are here almost all the time, but they're not goblins; that's for sure."

Sarah's heart skipped a beat. "Three? What do they look like?"

"One looks like a fox and he has a dog with him – he looks just like Merlin…"

"Toby," her tone was urgent, "what are their names?"

"There's Didymus, Ambrosius, Ludo, and… Hoggle! Yea, that's his name. You know, we talk about you all the time…"

Tears were welling up in her eyes. Her friends… her friends were with Toby. But why? Was someone watching him? Was Toby in danger, as well? Oh god, she didn't even want to think about that.

"Toby," she nearly whispered. "Toby, is there a man with them?"

"A man? No, there's never been a man with them. Why?"

"Nothing, it's nothing. Toby, don't tell mom and dad, ok? It's very important that you don't tell them."

"I know," he said matter-of-factly, "I've never told them anything."

"Ok, good." Her voice was beginning to crack, she wouldn't be able to hold in her tears much longer. "Toby… tell them, tell the three who aren't goblins that I love them… and I miss them, ok?"

"Ok, Sarah," he sounded concerned, but like a ten-year-old boy, didn't want to push the matter further.

"Keep them close to you."

"I will."

"Promise me, Toby. Promise you'll keep them with you all the time."

"I promise, Sarah." Toby was beginning to sound irritated at her sister's insistence.

"Toby… I have to go now. I love you, ok?"

"Love you too, Sarah. Bye."

Sarah heard the phone click on the other end before she placed the phone down then proceeded to rake her fingers through her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Her friends were with Toby, and god only knows how many other goblins. Why had Jareth sent them to Toby? Was someone watching Toby, too? Was her family in danger? Her baby brother, the baby she fought for, helped raise, and loved as if he were own. How could she protect him when she was so far away…

A faint yet audible sound suddenly echoed throughout the garden outside.

Sarah's eyes flew open, a few stray tears clinging to her lashes. She became still, waiting for the sound to repeat. She swore she heard something like a sharp, musical note. Again it sounded, louder this time. Biting back her lip, she strained to listen. It came again, louder and clearer than before, and it sounded as if it came from the darkest corner of the stone wall.

Brushing the hair off her face, she slipped off her bed, and stared outside the window. It seemed so peaceful outside, yet in her eyes, it was pulsating with energy…

It was then that she noticed the light emanating from a clearing in the trees. It was tiny and insignificant at first, and then it began to grow larger, pulsating with the same energy Sarah saw within the garden. She stepped back, entranced, not knowing what to do.

It was Jareth. She knew his magic, and he wanted her to go to him. If she refused, he may try another spell, and she certainly didn't want that to happen again. But she didn't have a choice; she didn't want to risk him coming into her bedroom again. Sarah turned from the window and silently made her down the hallway, down the stairs, and out the back door; still entranced by the soft music.

She followed the sound and the pulsing light deep within the garden. The further she walked, the deeper the sound became. But the throbbing light began to dim as she neared the small clearing in the forest; until finally the moonlight became the only light within the trees. The music still sounded and coursed throughout the blood in her veins and echoed in her very heart.

She barely felt the cold moisture of grass beneath her bare feet. She continued forward until she stopped where the light had been throbbing just moments before. And then the music suddenly stopped.

A cold shiver went up the side of her neck and she gasped at the sting of it. Sarah spun to face him, her eyebrows lowered over her eyes.

The thin rays of moonlight that broke through the walls of the courtyard struck Jareth's pale chest like silver spears. His entire ensemble was black except for the rich, midnight blue shirt he wore underneath a leather jacket. Sarah turned away at the sight of harsh metal scallops on his shoulders, very similar to what she had seen on Batman's massive, gauntlet-covered arm.

He raised one eyebrow with a thin lipped smile. "What do you think you're going to get from this?" he asked her. "Dining with him so intimately. You know it won't work, Sarah. You assume the role of clever heroine much too hastily."

"You've got a lot of nerve saying that," Sarah hissed.

"You're trying to save him from himself," he moved away from the wall and stepped toward her. "Much like you try to with me."

Sarah stood still and let Jareth reach a hand to her cheek. She let him brush his fingers against her chin and through the ends of her hair. His hand trailed down her arm until he grabbed her wrist and viciously twisted it behind her back.

Sarah's eyes went wide and he gripped her even tighter when she cried out in surprise. She knew this was a bad idea. She had fallen right into a trap.

"Don't struggle against me," he told her as he pulled her toward him.

"Let me go!" she cried again as she tried to pull free of his grasp.

His face remained calm and emotionless as he brought her closer to him. Sarah set her mouth in a scowl and glared defiantly up at him. His free hand reached up to her shoulder, his fingers brushing the soft fabric of her sleeves. His eyes lingered on her neck as his fingers lightly traced her collarbone down to just below her throat. Her skin had turned hot, and flushed noticeably at his touch. A slight grin crossed his face when he noticed her sharp intake of breath as his hand began to drift lower toward her chest.

Sarah gasped, her eyes growing wide when he twisted the silver chain around his slender fingers. He pulled gently until the diamond pendant lay in his palm. He lifted it up, his sharp eyes taking in the crystalline substance that seemed to glow from within the diamond.

"This is quite spectacular," he murmured, gazing at her pendant. "One of the last fragments of a lost and forgotten empire... a civilization that possessed a wealth of knowledge and power far beyond the comprehensions of this world. And it's all in this gem you wear 'round your neck. Simply remarkable."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she watched him uneasily. He couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from her diamond… and for one sick moment, she thought he would rip it right off her neck.

But he didn't. His smiling, wicked eyes flicked up to meet hers again. "But I like its background much better," he told her staring directly into her eyes. Then he glanced her over, taking in her fine clothing.

Sarah breathed heavily, avoiding his gaze, looking over his shoulder to the stone angel. "Is he safe?" she gasped.

Jareth knew he inquired about her brother. Yet, his amusement didn't fade; he always reveled in her nervousness around him. He tilted his head to the side, softening his grip, but not releasing her just yet. "Yes," his breath warmed her skin. "He is safe."

Sarah shifted her weight beneath his grasp. Their bodies were so close she could feel his warmth beneath her own clothes. Her mind suddenly flashed back to a time when the world seemed to come to an end, when he caught her just like this, and kissed her as she had never been kissed before. That moment was an awakening on her part. It was everything she had ever wanted and ever feared.

Her eyes flicked up and met Jareth's. She blinked again at the sight of him – he was so beautiful. But he had such an ugly side to him that she sometimes couldn't fathom as to why she was in love with him.

She had a read a book in middle school once where a man had asked the heroine why she loved him. Her answer was, 'I don't know and I don't care. Love simply is.'

Sarah's eyes fluttered as Jareth dropped his mouth to her ear. She could feel the tendrils of his hair against her neck, the steady beating of his heart. Her breathing quickened, as did the beating of her heart.

This didn't escape Jareth. He released her arm and wrapped both arms around her, holding her close. "Open your mind, Sarah," he whispered huskily, "you're safe with me."

For one fleeting moment, all her defenses dropped.

But then his voice became deeper. "You can't fight this darkness."

But then she came to her senses and inhaled sharply. This cursed love was slowly breaking her heart. She couldn't let it be. She refused to accept him because he was accepting his dark side so readily. And he wanted her to be just like him. It just wasn't possible.

Sarah searched his gaze – she was adept at it, she could often take out not only a person's character, but knew their lies when they spoke them, as well.

She struggled to know his mind, but it was frustratingly impossible. He stared fixedly back at her, as though he knew what she was trying to do.

In the end, Sarah had to look away. "You know me," she said quietly. "I can't become what you want me to be."

Jareth stared down at her, his eyes as hard as diamonds. "Likewise."

Before she could speak or even move, Jareth released her completely and stepped back. "Goodnight, Sarah." He spoke evenly and without emotion. He then held out his arms and shape shifted into the white owl, flying out into the dark night.

Sarah stared after him and could now feel the sharp bite of the cold. She couldn't deny that she missed his warmth. But the possessiveness in his eyes, the overwhelming, almost maddening infatuation he had for her was still frightening, even for her.

She truly believed his so-called affection for her was genuine, but his role as Goblin King was so toxic and brutal that he was unable to express his love in any healthy way. His perception of love was control.

There was so much Jareth needed to learn. But she also needed to learn how to trust, how to escape past betrayals and her own insecurities and vulnerabilities. Two emotionally incomplete people like them would not make a happy whole. Jareth needed to learn true love and to be touched by the humanity that was hidden deep down inside of him.

Sarah needed to mature, become her own person and less dependent upon others, and grow into the woman she was becoming. If she chose a life with Jareth based on coercion or dependency, there would be no happiness for either of them.

Her arms crossed and her head down, Sarah trudged back to the house through the lawn of dewy grass; the drops of water tickling her cold, bare feet.

* * *

The Goblin King stood at his balcony, looking out over the stone passages, woods, and finally the high walls that barred his kingdom from the world and the rest of the Underground. Only starlight pierced the heavens but it was enough for Jareth's eyes to scan over every crack and limb of this cursed place – his Labyrinth.

Few of his goblins remained in his castle now - all either left or were forced out by the darkness he allowed into his kingdom. Sarah's friends were forbidden to even see her, however, he allowed visits to her brother, Toby.

The blackness in this place was deafening; the radiant light of a crystal sphere sitting atop a frozen staff its only respite.

He looked out into the darkness, and as he did, something stirred. He could sense it surrounding him, rippling, undulating. They hissed, drifting down, then up into the walls of his cold palace. They were living darkness, a hundred barely seen creatures clustered around him and in the black corners. They were featureless, only their eyes were nothing more than tiny slits of yellow light, glowing malevolently in the dark. They were a darker, more menacing form of goblins.

The creatures clustered around the light of the crystal, careful not to venture too close.

In stark contrast, in the middle of the mass and in front of the sphere, stood Jareth. His face was lit only by the stark white light of the crystal. His beauty became enhanced by the light as his skin shone white in the crystal gleam, hair like molten silver. His eyes shone like black stars.

A picture wavered on the sphere's surface like water rippling. Jareth studied Sarah's form as her mind finally drifted into the darkness of sleep.

His pale skin shivered on instinct against the cold and the demented hissing of the liquid black covering the walls. Their eyes all burned as one – the King and his goblins.

Finally, they spoke as one, a hundred voices overlaid over another, each slightly out of time, hissing and grating against the ear.

"_You wanted usss, craved usss, begged for usss…"_

"I did no such thing," Jareth spoke in his defense. "You came uninvited!"

"_Sssilence!"_

Jareth hissed through his teeth, but complied.

"_You went against the rules, Goblin King. Ssshe banished you and it nearly killed you..."_

"And then you came."

"_We come and asissst when we are needed."_

Jareth sighed heavily and brushed his hand against the crystal sphere, Sarah's image vanished. "I can only come to her in dreams. I only exist for her on the boundaries of her sub-conscious."

"_It drivesss you mad, doesssn't it?"_

Jareth took several deep breaths, inhaling the rank air about him. "It does."

The darkness swelled in response. They all knew Jareth had an almost unreasonable interest in the young woman. He related to her, no doubt, because she understood his world so well.

They all knew that from the time she was a little girl he had became her protector, an angel, and her guide as he watched her grow. Then she finally came to the Labyrinth, and defeated him at his own game. Then Metropolis happened, and she defeated him again. But the Goblin King was not one to give up, even if it took a third try. While they slipped in through the cracks of the Labyrinth and made their way to his castle; Jareth would speak to the young woman in the night, and came to her in her dreams. Through the walls, through the mirrors, and in the shadows he was there with her again.

But it was more than infatuation for Jareth. He recognized her potential as an artist when she was still a child, and Jareth loved to be entertained by those who had been touched by the Muses. He personally took credit for developing her skill by way of thrusting her into one adventure after another. He gave her the inspiration. She was his glory, his triumphant, that he couldn't possibly share with another. Sarah was his entire focus. She was constantly on his mind.

And as she began to mature into a beautiful sexual young woman, he began to desire her, worship her, and fantasize over her. He had plans for her.

And within these walls of solitude, with the darkness growing more and more everyday, he was filling his empty void with one thing alone – Sarah. These obsessive thoughts over Sarah were slowly consuming him…

* * *

Sarah strolled through the grand hallways of the theater aimlessly, her footsteps echoing throughout the empty marble palace. The cherubs floating above her seemed frozen in mid-flight, and the Greek nymphs held their candelabras high for her as she passed them by. But she took no notice of them. Her eyes could not even take in the beauty of the Venetian mosaics at her feet; she was so deeply engrossed in thought. She walked through the golden foyer and down the lavish hallways laced with red velvet curtains, until she came to the rotunda.

The goblin tapestries had been taken down. All that remained were ivory marble walls, the mosaic of the moon and sun on the floor, and the glass dome ceiling. She didn't go inside, only stared at the floor – of the beautiful silver moon and the golden sun.

It was no secret that beauty was revered and rewarded, and ugliness disdained and shunned. When she was younger, Sarah couldn't help but judge abilities, worth, and talents by the outward appearance, rather than the inward gifts a person might have possessed. If talented gifts were not wrapped in a visually appealing package, rarely anyone paid any attention. She shuddered as she grabbed her hair, flipped it over her shoulder, and toyed with the ends.

But now things were different. She saw people differently.

Of course she had always been drawn to Jareth because of his beauty. But what was inside was a completely different story. Clark had been beautiful both inside and out. He certainly had his faults but he wasn't a bad person. This Batman was terrifying on the outside but trying to do good; therefore, he was a decent person. Even he did have his demons inside. Bruce… that was the one person she couldn't see as clearly as everyone else.

"Sarah!"

She slowly tore her gaze away from the rotunda and into Sebastian's smug face.

"Hey," he said, strutting up to her. "Someone left some more flowers for you."

She sighed, already knowing who had shown; although, she couldn't fight the slight jump in her heart at the thought of another visit from Bruce. She also couldn't hide a smile beginning to grow on her face.

"That's nice," she began to walk up the Grand Staircase.

Sebastian started to follow her purposely. "Hey, what's that stupid grin for?"

It was hard to miss the accusing tone in his voice. Her shoulders slumped as she fought the urge to stomp up the steps. "Leave me alone, Sebastian…"

"Sarah!" Another voice had called for her. She stopped and looked down behind her to see none other than Bruce walking in from the main foyer. "I'm glad I found you," his voice echoed across the theater hall. "Although, someone told me you had gone." He tossed a rather spiteful glance in Sebastian's direction.

Sarah flinched just slightly at the look in Bruce's eyes just then. They had flashed like spears.

But his expression turned soft again when he looked up at her, and watching Bruce in his handsome business suit gliding on the floor walking with such charisma up the stairs… she couldn't help but feel a little excited that he was here to see her.

Bruce's eyes flicked over her, then down at Sebastian, who was just a few steps below Sarah.

"Bruce Wayne," he introduced himself haughtily and held out his hand for a shake. "I don't think I had the chance to-"

"Sebastian Vidal." He thrust his hand into Bruce's and grinned puckishly.

The two men sized each other up in a matter of seconds without getting ahead of themselves. But for a moment, Sarah was reminded of two angry cat-like predators, attempting to claim their territory.

Bruce looked at Sarah rather impatiently. Sebastian was no doubt grating on his nerves. "Is there someplace we can talk privately?"

Sarah thought he'd never ask. "Yes," she quickly walked down the stairs, and into the rotunda. Bruce followed her, and she got the distinct impression that he had flashed a victorious grin to Sebastian, whom glared after the pair. Fortunately, he didn't stick around.

"It looks much better, doesn't it?" Bruce noted, glancing around the walls. "The tapestries I had taken down."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and cast her eyes to the floor. "Oh, yeah. No argument here. It didn't suit the rest of the theater at all."

Bruce had to smile at her uneasiness; he liked to make her a little nervous. But his tone was casual, playful. "I wanted to come by and apologize for leaving our lunch date so abruptly."

Sarah shrugged indifferently. "You're _you_… you have things to do."

"Well, can I make it up to _you_ now?"

Sarah sighed. There was the slight chance that she had let this get too far. "Listen," she said, "I know I was the one who approached you…"

He wouldn't let her finish. "Yes, but I instigated the whole thing. I would really like to try to have at least one full date with you."

Sarah exhaled through a clenched smile. She didn't like his mischievous tone; it meant he wasn't taking her or this situation very seriously.

Bruce tilted his head and tried to get Sarah to look at him. "Come on," he said, "let's go get some lunch. It's twelve-thirty and I'm starving."

"Right now?" she asked, looking up, but at the ceiling. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What?" he said, gazing upward through the glass domed ceiling. "Oh, the rain..."

It had started to rain earlier in the day and it looked like it wasn't going to let up anytime soon. But knowing Bruce, he wouldn't a little rain, or even a downpour, deter him. Sarah sighed inwardly, already knowing what his little speech would entail.

He continued, "See, I'm not going to be affected by the rain because I can walk across the enclosed walkway to the parking garage, get into my nice, dry car, and drive to the restaurant of choice." He paused, turning to face her. "But I suppose for someone like you who walks almost everywhere, this would present a problem."

"Thank you for all that," she replied dryly. "I had not noticed." She thought for a moment then shook her head. "I'm not that hungry."

He cleared his throat, ready to start another speech. "You know judging by the tired look in your eye I'm going to say you haven't had much to eat today," he began thoughtfully, "but you had the common sense to at least eat something."

"I have to be careful about what I eat," she said defensively.

"Don't give me that, I detest it when a woman deprives herself of food." That had hit a nerve and Bruce knew it from the uncomfortable look on her face. Bruce watched her for a moment, all jokes put aside. "Just eat lunch with me. As I said, I feel terrible about our last luncheon." Sarah was about to protest for what seemed like the thousandth time, when he pressed on. "If anyone has anything to say about it, I'll deal with them."

Judging by his tone of voice, she didn't doubt it.

"You know, you worry too much about what other people think."

She looked up at him, giving him one of her best glares. "Maybe _you_ should try worrying a little bit more about what people think."

"Look," he started out, "we can either stand here and argue about this, or we can go eat lunch somewhere, filling our stomachs with good food while arguing about this." He began to walk out of the rotunda.

Sarah watched him walk away, but didn't move. She gave one last look down at the mosaic and felt a pang of longing. She liked Bruce, she really did, but not as he would hope. She wanted Clark to be here demanding a somewhat more harmless lunch with her.

She looked back at Bruce waiting for her. If it would get him off her back…

"Fine." She stormed over and pulled at his arm playfully. He smiled quizzically at her, but she only rolled her eyes in return. "Before someone catches us!"


	11. A Gift of Transcendence

They made it to the restaurant and managed to evade any crowd that might have reared its ugly head, of course, not without going back and forth about where they were going to go.

"Just do what you would normally do for lunch. I don't want to be a bother," she had stated after about two minutes of the meandering conversation. In the theater, Sarah had been resolutely mad at Bruce, but upon reaching his very nice black Audi, however, her nerves had caught up with her and she had to admit to being a little intimidated. But she wouldn't be cowed down at completely, hence the constant go arounds until they finally ended up at a quiet, but upscale Asian restaurant.

"Ever eaten sushi?" He asked after they had been given the hot tea they had ordered.

"Of course I have." Sarah stated stubbornly while looking up from her menu. "I've always been the adventurous type." She grinned at the last remark. Oh, if only he knew. "So you never got around to telling me what you do at Wayne Enterprises." Her tone was lighthearted but she really did want to stick to plain old small talk. Nothing too personal this time.

He put the menu he was holding down on the table. Wayne Enterprises was the last thing he wanted to talk about and he wanted to keep it that way for the time being. "It's all rather boring and a bit technical."

"I really don't mind hearing about it," she took a sip of her tea.

He relented a bit, sighing. "It's a multinational conglomerate. We own subsidiaries and the like… it's run by my business manager and if I ever need help falling asleep I just think about all the boring meetings I have to sit through."

Sarah dropped her menu on the table and leaned over. This time she didn't hesitate to use his first name. "Bruce," she began, "let's get one thing straight. I'm not another one of your Barbie dolls you can tote around town. If it's one thing I can't stand it's being talked down to. I can hold my own better than you think you know. So please don't talk to me as if I'm stupid because I'm very far from it."

Something inside Bruce snapped… but in a good way. He began to look at her much differently than he had before. She was demanding his respect and by doing so, he felt as if a huge burden was being lifted from him. He felt his façade as reckless playboy begin to peel away.

"Alright," he nodded, "I apologize. I just didn't think you were very interested."

Satisfied at his apology, she relaxed and placed her napkin on her lap. "At least tell me a little bit about it."

"Well, there's WayneTech, we use it to acquire new technologies. Wayne Healthcare…"

"What does that do?"

"It runs Gotham's healthcare system. It's a facility for researching and developing new medical procedures and systems..."

And the conversation went on from there. Initially, Bruce was wary about telling Sarah of all the different subsidiaries he owned for fear he might begin to see dollar bill signs in her eyes. But Sarah was not at all interested in the money aspect of it. She wanted to know what each subsidiary did and how it was done. She seemed hooked on his every word about the current research Wayne Biotech was doing for AIDS and HIV, development efforts on organic produce at Wayne Foods, and the alternative fuel source findings at Wayne Chemicals.

Bruce didn't know exactly why he revealed so much about his work. Impressing her was definitely part of it, but he felt he could trust Sarah much more readily than other people. And he enjoyed the way her eyes lit up when he began to talk about the Martha Wayne Foundation - a patron and supporter of arts. Through the foundation, artists could apply for grants from the foundation to help support them in furthering the arts. It was the reason why the theater and her Company were in existence.

"Was Martha Wayne…?" she began to ask quietly.

He nodded, half-smiling, and gazing downward. "She was my mother. She was the one who loved the theater."

Sarah shifted in her chair uneasily at the pain in his voice.

But Bruce looked up at her and cleared his throat dismissively. "So, where exactly in the city do you live?" In the background, a very gentle Asian melody was playing.

Sarah gingerly ran a hand through her hair. "Why, do you plan on stalking me there too?"

A light smile grew on his face. "I didn't ask for an address."

She glanced at him wryly. She was not about to tell him she lived in a peptol bismol pink house that used to be a brothel. For some reason, it still unnerved her. "Coley Square," she said.

"Ah," he paused to sip his tea, "the historic side of town."

Sarah gave a tiny laugh. "Yeah, right around there."

Bruce looked at her for a moment, thoughtful. He shrugged, seeming to decide on something. "You know, I wanted to ask you something the other day at lunch before I had to leave."

"Hmm?" She took a bite of the sashimi Bruce had ordered for her.

"I have to go on a business trip to Metropolis next week. I've been there many times but I've never gotten a chance to really see the city."

Sarah looked up and gave him a wide-eyed look, her mouth still full.

"Would you like to join me?" He smiled warmly, genuinely. "Nothing at all implied this time, I swear. I just thought you would like to see your old neighborhood and maybe show me around a bit." Bruce tilted his head at her. "That is, if you would like to."

She looked on at him, incredulous, and had to force her food down her throat. "You… you're serious?"

"Completely."

"You actually want me to go with you to Metropolis and show _you _around?"

He gave a little laugh while leaning into the table. "Like I said, I've only really gone for business trips and not so much for leisure."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was too much, too fast. "But you're… so easily recognizable."

"And you're hard to miss yourself." He gave her a sly wink. Sarah really was so easy to tease. She just gazed at him across the table. Bruce had to smile at her. She was so full of propriety. He wondered if she ever did anything questionable, ever. When Sarah gave him no reply, he opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter came just then to clear their finished plates. Bruce had ordered a rather hearty, but healthy, meal which did indeed include sushi; and Sarah ordered a sushi dish as well, though not nearly as fancy or expensive as Bruce's. After the waiter had left, Bruce gave her a look and she knew they were back where they had been before the server had come.

"Do you ever lack propriety?" he asked her.

Sarah had expected another defensive invitation, but the question quickly threw her off guard. They were indeed back where they had started. "Excuse me?"

"You are quite possibly the most scandal wary female I have met, by far. You say you're the adventurous type, but I honestly haven't seen a shred of audacity in you."

This time, Sarah's mouth did drop open. That statement was quite bold, even for a billionaire. The words he spoke were harsh, but if Sarah didn't know better, his eyes were betraying his jest. "Well, now that I know you think me immorally bankrupt, I think we've cleared some air." She couldn't help but laugh and she wasn't sure why.

"I would never have asked you to come with me if I truly didn't think it was a wise decision. For one, I would have enjoyed your company. And I would go to great lengths for as much privacy as possible." Now his eyes held absolute sincerity. Sarah found herself feeling guilty as his words.

Before she could grip the words and pull them back before they escaped her, she was apologizing. "I'm sorry…" she started and then stopped. Why was she sorry? He was the one who called her 'scandal wary'. She would have preferred classy.

Bruce sat across the table and watched her, a small smile crossing his face. She looked utterly confused.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm just wondering," she said flatly, "if 'scandal wary' and 'lack of propriety' could be classified as insults."

Both of them stared at each other for a moment before sharing a laugh. After a rather relaxed moment with Bruce, Sarah looked at her wristwatch and sighed.

"I should get back," she murmured.

"That's funny," he said, looking thoughtful, "who do you think is going to reprimand you?"

Sarah shot him a look. "You're my superior, yes, but Alexandra is the one I answer to."

Bruce signaled for the check as he mouthed the word 'propriety' at her. She threw her napkin at him then looked down at her plate in an attempt to hide her laughter. The check came and she chided herself for not thinking to ask for a separate check. Without even looking her way, Bruce took out his wallet.

"Here," she said while pulling out her own wallet, "how much was my end?"

He looked up at her and scowled, taking notice of her actions. "Ridiculous, even."

"Bruce please, really, I want to pay for my half." She silently noticed how much less stuffy using his first name made him sound; it didn't quite feel so awkward anymore. And she could tell Bruce caught that with his buoyant smile.

"It's on me."

He said the words with such finality that she didn't want to argue back. And she was thankful for that.

* * *

Sarah had insisted that Bruce drop her off at least a half mile away from the theater, and from there she could hail a cab. Bruce didn't want to argue with her anymore than necessary. As long as she promised him she wouldn't walk in the rain he would do what she wanted. He pulled up to the curb in front of a non-descript ATM machine surrounded by pubs and decent pool halls.

"Are you sure you won't come to Metropolis with me?" He thought he'd try one more time.

Sarah glanced downward and sighed. "I'm sure. I have too much work to do here."

"So when can I see you again?"

This time she laughed under breath. He certainly knew how to bounce back. "I don't know… it wasn't exactly kept on the down low when you whisked me away today. I don't want any extra attention."

"You're the lead in a Broadway play."

"I want people to see the character I play, not the actress that's in all the gossip columns."

"Well, you certainly have your priorities straightened out."

Her eyes slowly looked up into his. "This is really important to me," her voice was quiet, almost pleading.

He sighed, understanding how much this job meant to her. He had to admit he was hurting her chances. But then again, he always got what he wanted too… sometimes. "What if talked to Alexandra?"

She finally threw her hands up. "Why me? Why is it so important to go out with me? You can literally have any woman you want in the world!"

He took her hand gently. "You're full of propriety."

Sarah looked away and laughed. "Not _that_ again!"

He pulled her hand closer to him. The action made her turn back to look at him.

"You're an honest person," he said openly, "you don't put on airs and you seem like the kind of woman who doesn't forget her worth. I truly admire that." She smiled at him. The sincerity in his voice had softened her heart towards him. "And you're a lot of fun to tease."

Sarah laughed out loud. And he was doing so good… "Ok," she pulled her hand away, "I really have to go now."

"Wait," he stopped her, "what about our next date?"

She sighed and glanced sideways at him. She always knew when someone was lying or putting on an act. She could see that Bruce was tiptoeing between the two, and that he was about to step into the role he truly was. Despite the deep secrets that she knew was there, she couldn't help but be attracted to him. Perhaps it was the thought of a dark side that was drawing her to him… it was a situation all young women, including herself, had trouble staying away from.

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, complying. "Let's agree on a time and place now so we're not running around the entire city next time."

* * *

They had readily decided that for their next date, they would not stay in the city at all; rather they would drive out into the countryside. Bruce had agreed to pick her up outside a quiet bookstore near her house so she wouldn't have to walk too far. She had to admit to herself as they drove away from the city that sneaking around to see Bruce was a little exciting. It felt forbidden to her. But she knew she shouldn't get too carried away with it. She truly did not want her reputation or worth as an actress to be questioned.

They had shared a quick lunch at a small café on the side of the road; and with the both of them dressed down for the day, no one threw them any second glances. Afterward, Bruce told her of a trail not so far from where they were. And then it hit her. Where was he taking her? She was alone with Bruce. No one knew where they were. What if that was his secret? He was a serial killer or a rapist… he could get away with it.

Her face had gone white and Bruce looked at her, troubled by the fear in her eyes. But then he caught on to her fears.

"I didn't mean to make you nervous," he said quietly, leaning close to her. "But you trust me, I know you do."

"Do you?" she asked, still flustered, but she cocked her head at him.

He smiled reassuringly at her and nodded once.

Sarah fidgeted as she brought her hand up to her neck and pulled on the silver chain. Her movement was subtle and discrete, but still her hand shook. She maneuvered the diamond underneath her shirt close to her heart. It felt warm against her skin, and as she held it to her, she could feel a soft, faint glow – like a ray of sunshine emanating from deep within her heart. This was all she needed.

Bruce was most definitely _not _a serial killer, and after pushing away her cup of cold coffee, she agreed to go to with him.

* * *

The sun left behind white streaks as it shone through the late afternoon clouds. The different shades of green found in the trees that lined the highway were bright and soothing, filling Sarah with the comforting joys that spring brought. A sharp wind whistled and moaned as it forced its way through the open car window; Sarah leaned against it, her manner finally quiet and reflective. But her thoughts would often turn back to Jareth then Bruce, then Jareth again. The arrogance and the patronizing attitude both of them had – although Bruce wasn't showing so much of it lately. But it was like they were born with it, that it was the only thing they knew. However, maybe that's how Bruce learned to deal with the death of his beloved parents, through a guarded mask.

Yes, this drive had been good for her. It truly helped to sit back and enjoy the living scenery she rarely saw. Even as the sun glared through the windshield, making a partial silhouette of the scenery before her, she did not tear her vision from the horizon.

The sun's dagger rays scattered across the asphalt, the pointed shadows of the trees passed by her, almost hypnotic-like. Then she heard Bruce talk to her.

"Hey, you still there?"

"Hmm…" she replied, coming back to reality slowly, "oh yeah, I always liked the outdoors. Life in a big city can be-"

"Overwhelming," he finished. They both smiled at each other. "If you could go anywhere in the world," he asked, "where would it be?"

Sarah hadn't been asked a question like that in a long time. The answer felt equivalent to freedom, something she felt she hadn't truly grasped yet. She really thought about it, but not many choices came up. "I don't know. England or Ireland…"

"Really?" Bruce seemed surprised. "That's it?"

"Well, there's a lot of places I'd like to visit. But those are the two that come to mind. Maybe Venice…"

"Ah, Venice is beautiful this time of year..." he peered ahead, suddenly distracted. "I think we're here." He pulled over slowly on the side of the road and put the car in park. "I think driving the Toyota today was a better choice," he said, noting the few other cars parked at the trailhead. He reached underneath the steering wheel to turn off the car and stepped out of the car.

Sarah sighed and waited for Bruce to open her door. She was bit more relaxed with him, but she still only gave him a small smile when he helped her out of the car.

Bruce led her along a flat trail, which was more of a leisurely stroll along a brook that flowed close to a verdant, vast countryside. The landscape here was an almost unearthly shade of green with pink and yellow wild flowers beginning to bloom.

"Tell me why you wanted to be an actress," Bruce suddenly asked of Sarah as they walked.

Sarah shrugged, looking for exactly the right words. "It just happened gradually. I can't really explain it… almost mysteriously, some overwhelming urge had begun to draw me into it - the pure adventure of it seemed irresistible to me, I guess. But the real challenge required putting my ego on the line." She smirked up at Bruce knowingly, and he smiled downward, catching her meaning. But she continued, "and for me, that 'something' that attracts someone to the point of performing is a fire within that person that needs to reach out to others. I think by doing that, you would enrich your own life with artistic expression and be able to touch and influence the lives of others watching you."

"You want people to feel what you feel," he added, attempting to see her point of view.

"Well, I mean I can't really expect a gaggle of people to pay to sit simply to soak in my personal longing and need to display. Audiences come to see the act and hear the drama, feel emotions, and be transported away from reality - not to see me!"

"You want to share a gift of transcendence."

She grinned, impressed at his use of words. "That's a good way of putting it. Just think about it, the audience brings you their expectations for a shared experience with a story, and they hope in some way it will enrich and elevate their lives, if only for a moment or two."

"You think you owe that to your audience, your desire to act?"

"A performer has to be able to share something with other human beings - a distinct break from reality. If I wasn't sure I had a worthwhile message, I would be undeserving of an audience."

"You speak like a true thespian," he remarked.

She shrugged, apathetic. "Maybe I am."

"And I assume that's what you like to see when you're in the audience."

"It is," she agreed, nodding. "But it's strange when I'm a part of the audience, I actually don't like to be near the stage. I know that you get to see everything up close and all that, but, I like to be up among the people enjoying something as much as I do."

Bruce smiled. He liked that Sarah was opening to him about something that meant so much to her. He stopped to look over the scenery and she stopped to look with him.

"Do you like it here?" he asked.

"I do," she nodded. "It's a nice change of scenery."

"I figured you wouldn't be so concerned about propriety here."

She shook her head and laughed quietly as the wind silently picked up and blew her dark hair into her face. She attempted to throw it back with a toss of her head, but Bruce reached forward and gently brushed back the hair that was blowing in her face. Despite the task being completed, his fingers lingered.

Her eyes suddenly widened and her heart raced faster. They stared at each other, both aware that she was leaning against him, their bodies pressed together and his hand buried in her hair.

Neither remembered who moved first or if they moved at the same time, but some unseen force drew them closer.

Sarah felt Bruce's breath on her face as he pulled her toward him. His breath was warm and it tickled her skin. She swallowed, her eyes drawn to his lips as he gazed intently into her eyes. A warmth flared within her as she focused on his lips, imagining what they might feel like yielding beneath hers.

The hand that remained by his side moved upward to her shoulder and lightly traced down her arm before it fell to rest on her waist. She shivered at the caress and Bruce parted his lips slightly in anticipation as he moved closer.

Sarah inhaled. She realized that their lips were a faint whisper away from touching. A haze clouded her thoughts and mind from nearly all else but the man in front of her…

Sarah inhaled again, but this time through her teeth, wincing in pain at the cold bite of the wind that picked up again. It felt like cold fingers had swept up from the base of her spine to the top of her head. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. She looked away and bit her lip, ashamed at what she had almost done. She should have been more careful, she should have known that someone else had been watching their every move.

Bruce looked down at her, confused and disappointed at the sudden change in her. He noticed she wrapped her arms around herself as she stepped away. She was biting her lower lip and her eyebrows were furrowed causing deep lines to appear on her forehead.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice quiet and his tone unreadable.

She nodded her head at him and took a step back, needing to put some space between them. Frustration filled Sarah's countenance. She couldn't tell how he was feeling. Was he upset or angry with her? Did he think that she was foolish for trying to kiss him? Why had she leaned in to kiss him in the first place? She knew that anything other than friendship between her and Bruce would never work.

She felt stupid, foolish and naïve.

Her voice was little more than a tremble. "A little," she couldn't help another shiver of fear. "We should start getting back…"

Bruce caught her wrist as she started to turn. He enveloped her fingers in a reassuring clasp when he caught the nervous look in her eyes. "When you know me better, you'll realize that I'm not so bad."

The unexpected gentleness in his tone disarmed her. For a fleeting moment, his eyes were so warm and kind that he managed to coax a reluctant smile from her. And before she pulled away, he ducked his head for a gentle kiss on her hand.

The walk back to the car was not nearly as animated as it had been before. They walked back rather quickly in anxious silence. And when he opened the car door for her, she managed to smile silently at him, though it was faint and forced.

She settled back in her chair and pulled the visor down to check her face in the mirror for any stray tears. What she saw made her blood freeze and her heart stopped, concaved in her chest. Her eyes widened beyond normal proportions and her knuckles became even more ghostly. Her mouth suddenly went dry and she unconsciously worked to wet it.

She swung her head around suddenly and looked back through the windshield. Like a messenger of doom, Jareth silently stood at the back of the car, glaring right at her.

His lips were thin and straight, but his eyes were terrible, enraged by her recent candor with Bruce Wayne. It brought tears to her eyes – tears of panic and shame. Sarah turned back around unable to face him. She pushed herself back in the seat and stared anxiously at the horizon.

When Bruce sat in his seat, he looked to her and was alarmed by the sudden fear that gripped her so furiously. "Sarah," he reached out to her, "are you okay?"

Sarah gasped and fell back into her seat even further. "Oh, oh m-my God," she stammered with widening eyes.

"What is it?"

She was breathing in short gasps, her face almost white.

Now Bruce really began to worry. "Sarah, what's wrong?" He placed his hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling.

Her eyes were wide with terror. "I-I think I'm having a panic attack…"

He frowned, but kept calm. "Okay," he spoke as gently as possible, "okay, don't fight it. Try to relax…"

Relax?! She couldn't relax! She needed to get out of here now.

"No!" Tears started to drip onto her cheeks. "No, please let's just go. Please!"

Bruce hastily reached under the steering wheel, put the key in the ignition, and turned the car on. He kept his gaze to her as he turned the car around and sped off onto the open highway.

Sarah glanced back in the rearview mirror to see if Jareth still stood there. But there was no sign of him. She ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. It was all she could do to get a grip on her emotions.

Bruce flicked his eyes from the road to her, confused and alarmed. "Sarah…" he tried reaching out to her.

She held up her hand to stop him, but couldn't hold back the tremor in her voice. "Please… just, I don't want to talk about it. I think I should go home to rest…"

Bruce didn't say another word and proceeded to take her back to Coley Square, where she insisted she be dropped off.


	12. Forsaken

Yuri Ivelitsch took one last drag of his cigarette, the orange glow of it lighting up his unusual turquoise eyes before he tossed it in the street. He lifted his jacket collar up higher to keep the cold wind off his neck.

Anyone passing by would hastily walk to the side of the curb to avoid any contact with him. He was the sort that kept others intimidated by the raw strength and over-confidence he tended to flaunt. But Yuri was more than just a nasty face with an attitude to match. He was the best and most brutal man among every gang and crime family in Gotham City. He won every underground fight, got every shady deal done, no one walked away untouched from Yuri.

He stepped down into a lower level staircase and banged on the door. He wasn't worried about anyone following him, no one dared.

A tall, bald man with a full goatee opened the door and stepped aside to let Yuri in.

He walked inside the smoky club that served as a sort of headquarters for his crime family under the leadership of The Russian – a ruthlessly powerful mob boss determined to survive in Batman's war against corruption.

And before Batman, The Russian and every other gang and crime family that used to rule Gotham City were now on the verge of desperation; trying to keep the money coming and going, and still trying to run Gotham's underbelly with an iron fist. But bad blood still continued to run deep between the crime families of Gotham. They were far from any sort of alliance with each other and they were all the verge of an all out war for dominance – to be the only one left with power.

Before Batman, Gotham City was rampant with corruption within the city's civil authorities and infrastructure, most notably within the Police Department. In fact, Commissioner Loeb was said to have his hands in many pockets. It was why the only decent cop left in the force, Lieutenant Gordon, had any contact with the Batman.

Yuri sat down in a chair across from the Russian, who was just finishing a meal.

"Yuri, my Capitan!" The Russian exclaimed after he caught the flash of dirty blonde hair. "What news for me today?"

Yuri was what a typical mafia family would call a caporegime – a Capitan among his soldiers; which was what Yuri essentially was. He controlled up to ten men under The Russian, and those men relayed everything they heard on the streets to Yuri. If Yuri thought it was important enough, he went straight to the boss.

This certain piece of information came from one of Yuri's most trusted men, Petrov, who felt it his life business to bring down Maroni and his gang.

Yuri settled back in his chair and spoke in his low, heavily accented voice. "Word on the street is Maroni's going to the theater a lot more often these days."

The Russian downed the last of his port. "So what? I go to the theater too when I wish."

"He's going because of a pretty little woman working there."

His beady eyes narrowed. "Hmm… an actress?"

"Da." (yes.)

"What else do you know?"

"He's already sent her flowers, eh trinkets… Petrov says you would have to bribe someone high up in the theater business to be able to do that."

"How does Petrov know?" he asked dubiously, shrugging his shoulders.

"How else would you be able to sneak in an Azad bracelet?" Yuri asked his boss matter-of-factly.

The name peaked The Russian's interest. "Azad?"

"This girl I know, she works for Azad, and she says one of Maroni's men came into the store twice last week to pick up special orders. One was a yellow diamond bracelet, the other ruby earrings."

"It could have been orders for his wife."

"Boss, you don't understand," Yuri leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, the tattoos on his wrist half-exposed. "This girl, she tells me Maroni only does special orders from Azad. Azad makes the jewelry for Maroni's mistresses. His wife, is eh, a different account someplace else."

The Russian frowned. "How well do you know this girl?"

"Very, very well." Yuri's voice was dark.

The Russian sat back into his chair and eyed Yuri silently for a moment. Then he shook his head. "She is an actress in the theater, you say. This would cause too much unwanted attention. An anonymous girl is one thing, but to use a Broadway actress as a threat against Maroni, what would we get out of it? He would get bored with the whole mess and not want to be a part of it, either."

Yuri's eyes turned as callous as The Russian's. "We use her as leverage to get Maroni out of the way."

"What do you mean?"

"We get the girl, we do what we do, and then we drop her into Maroni's lap without him knowing. Maroni would be charged with kidnapping and killing the girl…"

The Russian nodded, understanding the plan his best man had already concocted. "The sweets he sent would be found and used against him…

"There is only so much he could deny. He would be found guilty right away and that's one more gang out of our way."

"And what about the Batman?"

Yuri waved the idea aside, seemingly unaffected. "Batman is too busy with the drug and money laundering side of things. He'll never see this one coming…"

* * *

Bruce Wayne walked into the theater with two of his colleagues that were the head of The Martha Wayne Foundation. They all marveled at their work and made small talk about the theater and the Company for several long minutes until Alexandra came to join them. And much to Bruce's chagrin, they made even more small talk about future performances, grants to hand out, and budget plans.

Bruce was able to hide his impatience well and before long, he excused himself. Of course, no one dared to question the excuse.

But Alexandra watched him leave with her sharp eyes. She knew who he was looking for, and she was determined to put a stop to it today.

Bruce looked up and down the gold and marble hallways until he began to walk up the rows of the auditorium, half-grinning genially at the crew who ambled by. He vaguely noticed that as he climbed higher up in the auditorium, the air became thicker. He would have to mention the lack of air circulation up here to a crew member.

He looked up and around the painted ceiling and the golden boxes reserved for well-paying patrons, until he finally found what he was looking for.

She was sitting comfortably in one of the seats high up in the mezzanine. Bruce had remembered her telling him how she enjoyed being a part of the audience. But Sarah was looking up at the magnificent chandelier hanging high above her; and didn't notice him approach until he practically stood next to her.

Sarah blinked and looked over at him, not at all startled to see him. He noticed that her eyes were slightly glazed over, her mouth open as if he had interrupted her in mid-conversation; except that no one else sat with her.

"Talking to an Opera Ghost?" he asked her with a teasing grin. She blinked once, seeming to come out of her strange trance with a shake of her head. "Hardly," she replied dryly.

Bruce took a seat next to her and looked out over the auditorium. "That story's fascinating you have to admit," he said. "Imagine you're living in a place like this and your Angel of Music comes to you at night every night. He frightens and fascinates you while on the verge of becoming a woman. But your fear," he turned to her when his voice became low and somewhat languid, "your terror, all of that is love of the most wonderful kind, the kind which people do not even admit to themselves. It's the kind that thrills you and keeps you coming back for more."

"You know it well," Sarah noted, and when Bruce gave a lop-sided grin, she said, "the Little Lotte poem kind of gave it away."

Bruce shrugged. "But then I always thought Christine's fear of the Phantom was really just a bad-boy attraction."

Sarah rolled her eyes and looked away toward the stage.

Bruce shifted in his chair uneasily. "Are you warm? It seems the air doesn't flow through up here very well."

Sarah shook her head. "No, I'm very comfortable."

He smiled, thinking that she was comfortable with him. "Good."

But Sarah managed to catch that satisfied tone in his voice. She sighed deeply and prepared herself for what she was about to say; what she should have said in the beginning. "Listen, Bruce… I'm not really into seeing someone right now."

He smiled wider, seemingly amused. "Perfect. Neither am I."

"No, really… I think you might be too much of a distraction right now. I… I only felt bad about that night because I did end up sneaking out without you noticing. I couldn't risk my reputation that night and I shouldn't have risked it again. I just didn't want you to be angry with me…"

"You were afraid of what I might do," he said in a low voice.

"Yes," Sarah admitted. "I was."

Bruce turned his head and frowned openly.

Sarah watched him warily, not even daring to blink. Would he be angry with her? Or blessedly indifferent?

He finally pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "I admit that I was a bit too aggressive. But you're right," he looked at her, "I think I am too much of a distraction." Bruce smiled his languid smile, but there was a steely glint in his eye.

Sarah's eyes widened. Something in his voice sent a dark shiver through her.

"If you ever change your mind," he rose from his seat and towered over her, "you know where to find me."

Sarah couldn't bring herself to say anything more to Bruce. She felt relieved, confused, and miserable. She yearned to scream out all of her frustrations for Bruce and the rest of the world to hear. She wanted to grab Bruce and tell him everything. She wanted to reach out and tell him not to go, that she would have stayed with him if it weren't for someone else. Someone she loved and feared. She wanted to ask Bruce about his secret before he left; she wanted to ask him if he put on act for the world to see, if he were truly a good person.

But all she could do was glance up at him and nod in response slowly. He smiled and nodded in kind, and walked away from her.

She had prayed that Bruce would not catch that glimmer of fear in her face, the tremble in her voice.

Unknowing to him, Jareth was in the shadows watching them from the dark corners, high among the golden angels of the ceiling, atop the chandelier, in the wings of the stage, everywhere…

There was no doubt in Sarah's mind that Jareth hated Bruce, what he represented, and the world Bruce belonged to that would very well not show compassion for Sarah. And of course for the way Bruce was so readily pursuing her. Bruce could offer her what Jareth possible never could – a life well worth living in her world. Perhaps Jareth saw Bruce as an even more of a threat to him because this kind of life even Clark couldn't give her.

But Jareth knew Sarah better than that, better than anybody. Sarah would never choose a life without love. She still completely believed that love was not about money, status, convenience, or even gender or personality. It was all about what was real. The raw emotions, the energy, the heart and soul. When someone allowed someone else to see who they really were underneath all of the walls of fear and illusion - that was love. And that was what her out-of-body experience was - the baring of hers and Jareth's souls together in another plane of being.

Sarah finally stood, irritated of the oppressive heat the Goblin King radiated, and walked down the stairs toward the exit. Her head down, she took a deep breath and forced several tears from escaping her eyes.

She would all too often imagine alternate endings to satisfy how she would have liked to see past events play out; because sometimes the reality of the sad endings were too painful for her to accept. But she had to live with the consequences of her actions, of that ill-fated wish she made so long ago.

But she could not go back and rewrite chapters or provide for herself alternate endings to the painful moments. Each chapter in her life was an unchangeable story penned in eternal ink. The acts not only played out in her life, but they inherently touched and affected those close to her...

"A word with you, Sarah?"

Alexandra's sharp voice broke Sarah out of her thoughts. She stopped in her tracks and shrank back slightly at the way Alexandra stalked towards her. She had never seen her director like this before. Her shoulders were hunched over and she leaned down so that only Sarah could hear the hiss in her voice.

"I saw you with Bruce," she said. "I think you two might be getting a little too friendly."

Sarah's mouth dropped and abruptly shut it again when she saw that Alexandra was trembling. Sarah realized that her director was fighting the urge to grab her and make a hideous scene.

"Make no attempt to see him again. This is your last warning, Sarah."

Sarah froze, staring at Alexandra with wide eyes. And as Alexandra brushed past her, Sarah's heart sank into her stomach. She realized then that her supposed affair with Bruce was actually very harmless, and for her director to make such a fuss was quite petty. Yes, it was Sarah's reputation, but it was ultimately up to her as to how she would handle it – if she had chosen to go through with the affair.

But now there was no doubt in her mind that Alexandra would fire her in an instant for pursuing it any further.

Sarah blinked and looked back at Alexandra disappearing behind a corner. There was something she wasn't telling her. There was more to it than an obvious flirtation between her and Bruce. Sarah could sense strings being pulled – strings on a breaking puppet.

* * *

Alexandra promptly shut the door behind her and hid her sob behind her hand. She felt absolutely vile for what she had just done. She was slowly and surely sealing her favorite pupil to a fate from which there would be no escape.

She pulled out a velvet box that she was supposed to leave at Sarah's dressing table. Inside was a pair of antique ruby earrings, another addition to the yellow diamond bracelet. Sniffing, she clutched the box in her palm, and pressed her back against the door. She could walk away from this right now. She could lie to Sal Maroni. She could tell Sarah everything.

But the hole had already been dug too deep.

She always needed more money. More for her debts, for her appearance, for her theater… She already did the unthinkable and told one of the biggest crime bosses in Gotham that Sarah had readily agreed to become a mistress. But she hadn't the courage to tell Sarah anything yet. Sarah would just have to accept it – like she herself did so many years before. If Sarah thought she could get ahead in Gotham City by her talent and looks alone she was in for a very rude awakening.

But keeping Sarah in the dark was turning more chaotic by the minute. Sal Maroni would be furious if Alexandra allowed Bruce the same courtesy to pursue Sarah. She shuddered, almost crumpling to her knees just thinking what would happen to her if Maroni ever found out.

Alexandra shoved the velvet box back into her pocket and hastily wiped at the tears on her cheeks. She would tell Sarah eventually, but not yet. Let the gifts keep coming, let them get bigger and prettier, by then Sarah wouldn't be able to resist an offer like Maroni's. Both of them would be well taken care of by him.

But if Sarah refused… Alexandra shook her head. She didn't want to think that far ahead now. She composed herself before she left to Sarah's dressing table to leave the earrings there for her to find.

* * *

The little velvet box weighed heavily in Sarah's coat pocket. The ruby earrings that were in the box were not so heavy, but the fact that they were in her pocket and she was taking them home with her made them quite burdensome.

The evening was unusually warm for spring in the city. Although it could have been the exhaust from the constant traffic that was trapped within the streets. But it didn't matter to Sarah. It was just before dark and there were still plenty of people bustling about. She felt safe enough tonight walking home alone. She reached into her pocket and felt a canister of pepper spray ready and waiting to be used.

Then she reached into her other pocket and grazed her fingers against soft velvet. It and its contents were waiting for her at her dressing table earlier this evening. A part of her thought, even hoped that they were from Bruce; knowing that traces of Jareth could not be felt.

But it was the same person who had left her the diamond bracelet, she was certain it was.

It was someone she had met before, but the memory of the person brushed against her psyche and was gone again in an instant. It was like trying to name a person you knew of long ago, but you could barely put the name to the face, and vice versa.

The city sky began to darken and the streets became quieter as she turned to take the narrow side streets toward Coley Square. Sarah glanced around her, keeping a sharp eye out. The little shops and small apartments were quiet and dark, their windows beginning to turn black. The streetlights about three blocks ahead began to light up, but there was very little light down this particular street.

Sarah kept walking, quickening her pace as night began to seep through the streets. She hoped she could make it home before it got too dark. Gotham was not nearly as safe as Metropolis, and this little side street she decided to take reminded her too much of the night she was attacked outside the theater, the night Batman showed up.

She shuddered. Just the thought of Batman still gave her the chills. She constantly had to remind herself that he wasn't here to cause harm, that he was the good guy – or at least he was trying to be. She remembered his eyes… eyes that cut right through you…

"_Touch me, trust me…"_

Her legs stopped moving, freezing her into place. The voice came from everywhere and not just from her imagination this time. It was familiar, beautiful, musical even.

Sarah cupped her neck with her hand to ease the chills that ran up and down her spine. His voice had been everywhere. She was positive that if someone else was with her they would have heard it too.

She stood perfectly still. Afraid that if she made the slightest movement, the Goblin King would appear. Her heart raced at the thought of him emerging from the confines of the theater and her lucid dreams. She wasn't ready to have him back in this world again, not yet…

"_Your soul longs to be with me…"_

Something made a noise behind her… something real. She snapped out of her frozen muscles and whipped her head around, looking for the sound. But there was nothing.

She shook her head, took a deep breath, and began to walk on. Then she heard it again. It was a definite shuffle of footsteps about twenty feet behind her. Her eyes grew wide as she stopped and spun around again, her fear growing steadily. It had become too dark for her to see anything that far. But someone was definitely following her. She could feel it. And it wasn't Jareth.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood, goose bumps appeared on her bare arms as the air around her became completely still.

The footsteps came closer.

She stepped back and clutched her chest, reaching for her diamond. Her breath came out in gasps as she stood, paralyzed by fear.

The heavy footsteps came closer, accompanied now by the sound of harsh breathing.

She stepped back further, common sense beginning to take over as she dug into her pockets, searching for her pepper spray. Her hands shook and her breathing became more erratic. The footsteps came closer, and the silhouette of a stocky man came into view at the end of the street. His walk and stature were intentional – he was hunting for Sarah.

She fumbled for the pepper spray, blind panic beginning to take over.

Then the wind picked up. A sharp, cold wind that blew against her back and over body; as if it were pouring over her and into the street.

She suddenly let out a long, low mouthful of air, as if she had been holding her breath underwater. The man stalking her had stopped dead in his tracks. He stepped back and actually tripped over his own footing. He went down over a pile of discarded boxes and empty garbage cans. He made such a noise that some lights flicked on in several apartments. From the light of one window, Sarah could see the look of horror on the man's sweaty face before he turned and ran for his very life.

Sarah quickly turned back around and expected to see Batman, or even Jareth.

But she was the only one left on the empty street.

Her head shook voluntary out of utter confusion. What was it that scared that man so? Why was he following her in the first place? The latter question was actually pretty self-explanatory. He either wanted to rape or mug a young woman walking a dark, side street by herself.

But there were people in their apartments, it didn't take much for them to notice something strange going on outside. And it wasn't _that _late…

"_Just get out of here already, Sarah."_

She quickly heeded her own advice. It didn't matter if it were a Goblin King or a man who dressed as a bat. Whatever it was had saved her life and didn't seem to be following her as she raced back home. And she was grateful for that.

* * *

**AN: **wooo, sorry about the long wait. Recent trips to Chicago have helped but have also hindered the progress of this story. But I'll probably never give up on it. Special thanks to FelicityHuffmanFan who wrote a pretty nice review of A New Life and then went out and saw the original Superman movies. I love that I can get people to go out and see some classics. Thanks so much!!


	13. Heretics and Heathens

The grand living room at Salvatore Maroni's penthouse was near silent, only a few lamps illuminating the vast recesses of a hall usually thronged with his men and sometimes their women. One man stumbled into the room; he was pale, out of breath, and sweating profusely. He shuddered as he inched forward to meet with Maroni – his boss.

This man had more reason than most to be afraid. For one, he had been unsuccessful in bringing a defenseless, young woman for a private audience with his boss. But he was still visibly shaking from his recent, terrifying encounter.

It was nothing he had ever seen before. A black pillar of smoke rose from behind the young woman and stretched out over her. It looked like it had wings, or someone with a long cape. But out of the cloud of black smoke came hundreds of pairs of yellow eyes staring right at him. It was the most frightening thing he had ever seen. And he had worked for Gotham City's mob bosses for nearly twenty years.

He knew that the Batman was just a man. But he was more than that. He became an urban legend over the past year. He had never really seen him in person. But people described Batman like a dark shadow, moving over the streets and through the skyscrapers like water. Appearing and disappearing into thin air… a monster of a man, a demon of a man.

He found his boss lounging in a plush chair with a brandy. Maroni had obviously been waiting for him to bring back Sarah Williams.

Maroni looked not at all pleased. "What happened?"

He had to tell Maroni what he saw, and at this point, all he could think to say was, "Batman."

"Batman," Maroni repeated dryly. "What about Batman?"

"He showed up."

Maroni looked past the man. "So I can't have a mistress even if I wanted to because of him? He certainly likes to spit in all our faces, doesn't he?" He took a deep sip of brandy and glared at his man. "Get outta here."

The man did as he was told and scrambled out of the room. Maroni shook his head and exhaled through his teeth.

Alexandra had given her word that Sarah accepted his gifts and agreed to the proposition. So why had she not come to him yet? He never came to them first. They always came to him. Out of obligation and fear. But mostly fear.

He sent out his best man to bring her to him after her performance. He would have set her straight, but not enough to scare her off entirely. Perhaps a few glasses of red wine would have made her feel relaxed, comfortable; and then from there, the first order of business would have been taken care of.

He used to be able to get any woman he wanted, willing or not. He used to be able to pay the cops to turn the other way when a woman wanted justice. He used to be able to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted in this town before Batman showed up. Now he was purposely thwarting a powerful mob boss from getting even the most private and rather scandalous job done. Batman was crossing the line with this very personal and ego-shattering situation.

* * *

"Here are the files you wanted, sir."

Bruce looked up from his desk at his butler striding into his penthouse office carrying a silver tray of hot coffee, cream, sugar, and a stack of papers. Alfred had to carefully walk his way through stacks of files, CDs, and small computers.

"Mr. Fox said that this was the extent of his research at WayneTech." Alfred set the tray on the corner of his desk. "Anything else would have to be based on first-hand accounts."

"And those are nearly impossible to come by," Bruce said while he skimmed over a small computer monitor.

Alfred glanced over at the stack of papers and newspapers Bruce brought up from his small library. "Wasn't that reporter, Lois Lane, always the one with those kind of reports?"

"She's sent my staff every piece of information she had," Bruce replied gravely. "But she could always be lying…"

"I doubt it, sir," Alfred's voice took on an accusing edge. "You paid her a hefty amount."

Bruce ignored his butler and pushed the computer monitor aside from him. He picked up the files Alfred just brought him and started sorting through them almost frantically.

Alfred knew how his young master could begin obsessing over something like a mad man. It was nothing like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but Bruce was able to turn himself into a creature of fear, into another personality all together because of his obsession with bringing justice to Gotham City. Alfred sometimes thought that Bruce's obsessive behavior became overwhelming, even for him.

This was one of those little obsessive behaviors.

"WayneTech is the biggest division of Wayne Enterprises..." Bruce sounded impatient, verging on anger. "Millions of dollars is put into this subsidiary every year, and I can't get one piece of information on him!" He threw one folder aside. "He could be anywhere… literally, he could be anywhere in the Universe, and the most advanced equipment I have brings back absolutely nothing!"

"There is a bit of irony in that, sir." Alfred started to clean up the mess Bruce had made, but Bruce stopped with him a look that bordered on madness. Alfred sighed and stepped away from the desk. He had been a loyal friend and even a surrogate father to Bruce for years, but the work he was pouring himself into was not only draining his health, but his integrity.

"I thought WayneTech was only involved in the retrieval and research of new technology and the medical facilities," Alfred said, looking down at his young master.

Bruce sat back and looked at him as if he should have realized by now the importance of this project. "WayneTech _is_ responsible for Gotham's healthcare system..."

Alfred nearly jabbed a finger in Bruce's face, akin to scolding. "You're hunting down a man for your own personal gain! You're willing to put him through horrific tests and extract every drop of blood from him because you want the upper hand in your war on Gotham. The good and justice he inspired should be coming from you too, but you are capable of much more of an impact because you are _not_ a superhuman being."

"I don't need a lesson in morality right now, Alfred. I know what I'm doing."

"I beg to differ, Master Wayne. And what's more is that you're using a young woman's trust in you to get as much information from her when she clearly doesn't know anything."

"She _does _know something, Alfred. I'm sure of it."

"How can you be so sure of it, sir? What is it about Sarah Williams that has agitated you so?"

Bruce's voice began to rise. "I'm not agitated, Alfred…"

But Alfred's impatience was soon quickly giving way to anger. "Her and this bloody project are driving you mad!" he shouted, which he rarely did given his calm disposition.

Bruce paused and Alfred thought he saw a shadow of a sneer. "I was under the impression I went mad a long time ago."

"This is different," Alfred argued. "This goes against everything your father ever worked for as a doctor and as a decent man trying to do as much good as he could. If you go through with this and end up finding him, then you are no different than Dr. Crane!"

Bruce turned and stared at Alfred with shocked, almost pained eyes.

Dr. Jonathan Crane was once a corrupt, sadistic psychiatrist. He used the inmates at Arkham Asylum as test subjects for his hallucinogenic drugs, his fear toxins. He was secretly allied with Bruce's old enemy as well as the crime lords of Gotham City. Batman was able to incarcerate Crane in Arkham as an inmate, but he later escaped in a mass break-out and still remained at large. He now called himself the Scarecrow.

Alfred suddenly snapped his jaw shut. But the conviction in his eyes meant he didn't regret what he said.

Bruce stared at Alfred before turning away. "It's up to me to decide when enough is enough, Alfred."

Bruce suppressed a shiver as he walked down the dark hallway toward his bedroom where a secret passage led to his armory.

He admitted to himself a long time ago that this project had indeed become an obsession. And the leverage he once had had slipped through his fingers. If he tried to have another date with Sarah or even try to see her again, she would most likely file a restraining order against him. Not that it would matter. No court in this town would be willing to file against a member of the Wayne family. Which, ironically, was an inherit problem in Gotham's legal system.

Regardless, Batman may not have always got what he wanted, but Bruce Wayne did. And he wasn't about to give up so easily.

* * *

Sarah shot up in bed with a choked gasp. She winced and turned her head away from the glare of the city light. Her mouth was so dry that she could barely wet her chapped lips. She shuddered deeply as she threw her covers aside and struggled to get to her feet.

Holding her diamond between her fingertips, Sarah recalled all the terrible dreams she had of a grand theater covered in dust and cobwebs, of a dark, labyrinthine cave underneath that decrepit theater. And sitting in the throne wasn't the Goblin King but Batman himself with enormous metal scallops that resembled heavy medieval armor. The 'ears' of his cowl stretched up toward the infinite darkness of the cave and his cape flowed out like a river of black and merged with the underground lake before him.

He wasn't a man anymore – he was a demon in the flesh. And when he raised his clawed hand toward her, a sickening hoard of bats exploded from the shadows and swarmed around him before they began to smother her…

Her dreams had become so vivid since she began wearing the diamond. But she couldn't bring herself to take it off. She felt like it had become a part of her now and to discard it would mean tearing a piece of her soul away.

Sarah managed to make her way down to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Yet despite the cool moisture on her lips and tongue, she still couldn't shake the image of Batman from her head. She could still hear the flap of the bat wings and the way his obsidian eyes bored into hers with such… intention.

And then she heard the music calling to her again from the outside courtyard. Sarah shut her eyes and tried to put up an invisible wall in her mind to keep the music out, but it was too late. It already took hold of her and before she knew it, she was outside in the courtyard waiting for him to appear.

It was already mid-spring but white snow covered the ground and drifted through the air like glitter. She couldn't feel the cold because of the cascade of plush velvet that covered her from neck to toe. The velvet dress with tapered sleeves was hidden beneath lush, sable folds of crushed black velvet - a fully hooded cloak to shield her from the snow.

She wasn't surprised to see him standing in the small clearing among the bare trees waiting for her. But she did narrow her eyes at his choice of a silver-gray cloak wrapped around his shoulders and torso. The blue chip of his right eye seemed to be the only color about him.

"I don't miss the snow," her own voice sounded hollow to her. "It's too cold."

The Goblin King raised an eyebrow. "Are you cold?" he asked her.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "Tell me what you want so I can go back inside."

"I'm not surprised that none of this pleases you," he said as he moved toward her. "Very little seems to these days."

She turned away quickly and drifted toward the stone angel with its thin shroud of snow outlining its frozen form. Her cloak trailed behind her as she circled around it and began to dust off the white glitter.

"I hate to see you like this," he said, following her.

"What, cleaning?"

"No," he replied pointedly. "You're becoming withdrawn, temperamental."

"Oh?" she pretended to sound interested. "That's kind of amusing coming from you."

"Depression, Sarah, is not something that suits you well. And you know that."

She knew where this conversation was going, and she would have none of it.

"I'm staying in Gotham," she stated firmly. "I need to carry out what I've started, what _you've_ started."

Jareth settled back on his heels, his arms crossed, and his eyes boring into hers.

She stared back at him with a glower of her own. "I'm not going anywhere."

"And after I so kindly advised you," his voice feigned offense.

"You didn't advise," she pointed out. "You ordered."

"On deaf ears," he said coldly.

Sarah turned her head away and didn't answer him. He was right. She was as stubborn as he was arrogant, and neither was about to submit to the other.

Before she could say anything, his hand was over hers on the wings of the angel and they stood face to face. Another firm hand on her lower back kept Sarah from moving away.

She looked back at the Goblin King, who stood with the soft moonlight in his hair and tensed warily.

As usual, he seemed to think nothing of being so near. "I cannot protect you in this state. You _must_ bring me back if you wish to stay."

She stared at him then, disbelieving. "Then that wasn't you last night."

It was a statement, not a question. He looked down at her, both of his eyes now glittering in the moonlight, two mirrors reflecting the falling snow around them. He didn't say anything as the questions raced through her head.

"_Batman? Again? Was it really him? Is he following me? Why?"_

But Jareth's silence meant he was expecting an answer from her, and she finally ducked her head, hiding her face in the hood of her cloak.

"You know me," she said quietly. "You know I've always chosen the light. How do I know you've changed?" She asked quickly, glaring up at him. "You haven't done anything that proves otherwise."

His face remained hard, unreadable; until his eyes changed…

"Sarah?"

Jareth's tone was that of worry, as if he knew something was wrong with her that she wasn't aware of.

She tilted her head at him, confused; then she looked over her shoulder. She could see the lights from inside her house turning on. The dream was ending.

"Sarah!"

Jareth's voice was more urgent; he held her tighter. She turned to him for one last look. And with that, Jareth caught her and gathered her to him, crushing his lips to hers.

Involuntarily, Sarah's eyes closed at the feel of his whole body pressed against hers. All rational thought left her as his warm mouth fitted her own. This was an act of desperation. This was Jareth's way of begging at her feet – and it burned like a brand.

Everything around them became lost to her waking. All that was left was the warmth of their bodies against each other and the hazy desire that invaded their minds…

Until it all became black and she was left with empty darkness with nothing but the sound of metal clanging together coming closer and closer.

"_That man dressed as a demon…"_

The words barely registered in her mind.

"_He's following me…"_

The sounds came to her house…

"_Why?"_

Just outside her door.

"_I haven't done anything…"_

Her door burst open and came tumbling down.

"_I want him to."_

The sound finally clashed next to her ear and she shot up again in her own bed. Reality harshly sunk in as a headache throbbed violently in her skull. This time her feet met with the real floor of her bedroom and the lights of Gotham poured over her. It was spring again, not one snowflake in the air. But Jareth's kiss still lingered on her lips. They felt bruised and swollen.

Her diamond fell out of her top as she pushed herself off the bed and her eyes caught the glimmer of the tiny kaleidoscope within. She looked up to watch the reflections dance on her window, but instead, her heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes had already been accustomed to the dark. She bent her head forward to get a closer look at the rooftops just a few blocks from her home. As she turned her head, she noticed a different shape of black situated just next the ledge of one.

Sarah swallowed hard. Her eyes widened as she made the connection. And just as she moved to stand straighter; the figure turned, crouched down, and disappeared. Someone she had just dreamed of had been watching her.

* * *

Jareth sat on his perch in his owl form, looking in through Sarah's window. The cold beam of moonlight caressed his back, diminishing the hollow pain in his pulsating chest. The light formed a sort of halo around him, glorifying him, uselessly raising him from his exhaustion. With pained, mismatched eyes, he watched as Sarah turned the light in her bedroom off.

The rising stars above twinkled and glowed like a thousand eyes, watching him, almost sympathizing with him. He looked at the white moon and marveled at her beauty, and almost without warning, the image of Sarah entered his mind's eye. Such great beauty, like the moon, ought not to be left alone. Like him, he reasoned, she deserved not to be alone. He looked down and saw the faint movement of a shadow settling himself on his perch, as well. He was like one of the many stone gargoyles that guarded this city – a gargoyle in the form of a bat.

This city was just as large and formidable as Metropolis. Of all the places this Batman had to be, he had to be here – watching Sarah's home. But he didn't stay for long. As soon as a bright, circular signal blared unto the night sky, just behind Sarah's building, he was gone. He had to give the Batman credit; within the blink of an eye he disappeared, leaving no trace behind. But he was just a man. He wasn't the mighty power and strength that was Superman. He didn't have the boyish-good looks Superman had flaunted. His face was hidden behind that mask; and he knew Sarah hated that. But they both wanted the same thing – a change for the better in their world. But this one used different tactics – he used intimidation to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. Batman embraced the darkness, he welcomed the shadows; he made them his ally.

But so did he. And he was by far much better at it than Batman was.

Batman may be a rival to him, but he wasn't a threat. In fact, the real threat lay in deeper shadows than the Batman did.

Jareth had greatly underestimated this man; yes, he was only a man, but he was more than that. This man had power, an unquestioned command over others like him; he was feared by many for his ruthlessness and willingness to take lives in order to exert his influence.

And Salvatore Maroni, Gotham City's top crime boss, was taking too much of an interest in Sarah.

Unfortunately, he could not protect Sarah as one of Maroni's men attempted to kidnap her the other night. He allowed the goblins that ran his kingdom to do that. But it was more power he was giving them, more leeway than he could afford. Eventually they would want more until they completely over ran his authority. He had to find a way to make Sarah bring him back before it was too late…

Now, letting the cold wind of night breathe over him, he keenly felt how powerless he was. Sarah had no idea of the threat that lurked ever closer to her. But why would she listen to him? He could only come to her in dreams, and even those visitations were few and far between. And whenever he came near her, he couldn't help but be the great and terrible Goblin King. Besides, she was much too stubborn and proud to listen to him.

"_Just like me,"_ he thought cynically.

It tore him up inside to think that the one person he wanted to gouge with his own sharp talons, but was probably the only one who could protect Sarah, was Bruce Wayne.

* * *

She was on her way to the theater to meet with people from her Company to celebrate the end of 'Pygmalion' and the beginning of 'Salome'. She didn't want it but she knew she would be getting the part of Salome. The part she would have rather had was Herodias. It was a minor role but Sarah saw Salome's mother as the direct opposite of all other characters in the play. When everyone else had their supercilious notions of every little thing in the play; Herodias saw nothing. It would have been a nice change to be a sensible character.

She had considered walking through the Japanese Tea Garden again, but strong wind and rain had cut much of the blooming short. She decided to take the L train downtown, this way she could walk through much of the old part of Gotham City. The part that looked like something straight out of a Dickens' novel – the stone masonry and the narrow walkways that made up what the locals liked to call 'the gothic corner'. Although she had never seen any 'goths' hanging around this neighborhood. She found some irony in the fact that they all chose to hang someplace else, like it was a trick to those who were unfamiliar with the city.

She knew full well that she really shouldn't be walking alone anymore. But it felt like the longer she was in Gotham, the more withdrawn she became from the people, the very life of the city. She felt that there were few people left here that tolerated the façade she put on for everyone. The only person who really understood and knew her remained a Phantom. Speaking of which, she thought as she walked on, perhaps one of the reasons Jareth wanted to come back so badly was because of this city. She supposed he might like it here. This city was dark, old, and gritty – like his own kingdom.

And unfortunately, this city was perfect for those who stalked the shadows. She never watched her feet as she walked the streets. She always kept her eyes above and all around her. Too many times she caught a streak of black darting around a corner. Several times she swore she saw a large shadow leap from one building to the next just above her.

Was it Jareth? Or Batman?

She could never tell. And both were so inscrutable that she could never sense who it was. They both seemed to haunt her too much lately.

And tonight was one of those nights where she could sense something was very wrong. She could feel it, taste it in the air. Every muscle and nerve ending in her body told her to turn around and get a cab to the theater, but just as she did, Sarah began to hear a strange noise.

It sounded like a faint, whispering voice - too weak to understand - but it sounded like two men humming or talking to themselves.

She walked faster through a short alleyway. But the voices became louder and more insistent, and before long, a shadow had passed under a streetlight just ahead of her.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, watching it rise like smoke in the night air. The whispers of the men finally stopped and dread filled her as she turned, preparing to take the long, dark walk back to the other end of the narrow street. But that feeling came again, the feeling that something was not right – a kind of premonition that something was going to happen. The air was so thin out here, yet it was charged with tension – the calm before a storm, the anticipation of white lightning about to crack.

She crossed her arms over herself protectively and walked down the empty alleyway. The walls themselves seemed to swallow the sound of her footsteps, turning it into something muffled and dead.

Then her fear and all of her senses became intensified when a scuttling noise was heard just behind her. She looked around, but saw nothing in the empty alleyway. She resumed her walking – much quicker this time. Then the noise came again, sounding like someone following her...

"Hello?" she called out again, the first threads of fear causing her voice to tremble. She bit her lip and clenched her fists. She didn't see anyone, not a soul.

Sarah raked her fingers through her hair as she turned a corner, and skidded to a stop, her eyes wide. In front of her were several large men in dark clothing. They were all waiting for her. Their dark eyes were full of intent, and not one said a word. They were all eerily quiet and took one long glance at her, then moved toward her.

Her chest clenched and she felt a sharp stab of pain in her heart as she stumbled back, and fell against the side of a brick wall. It knocked the breath out of her, but it didn't matter. She stared around wildly, and saw the men – seven, eight of them, coming closer and closer. She stood there for what seemed like days, trying to catch her breath.

Fear for her very life kept her legs immobile, but her heart pounding in terror. She didn't know what to think – should she try and run, or even try to scream?

They would surely outrun her within seconds, and would more than likely silence her if she tried to scream.

Who were they? What were they going to do to her? Oh Jesus, she didn't even want to think about that. But they were coming even closer, and she could see the stubble on their oily chins and barely smell their rancid breath…

Something cut its way through the air. A swift metal object that was a sort of warning shot that flew between the men and Sarah, and lodged itself on an outcrop of brick wall.

Sarah stared straight ahead, too afraid to cast her eyes away for a second. But the men were suddenly very, very afraid. Frightened murmurs rose from them as they began to back away as one. Two of the men even bolted from the scene.

"It's him," one man whispered hoarsely, "he's here."

"What do we do?" Another man asked.

"We should…"

He didn't finish. A black shadow with wings suddenly descended on them. Screams and the sounds of bones breaking suddenly filled the air.

Sarah didn't think. She ran. She ran, and ran faster till she came to the end of the alley, and her head froze when she saw that it was a dead end. She didn't think twice and dashed for a back door, only to discover it was tightly locked. She rattled the knob frantically, trying to open it but it didn't budge.

She rushed down the alley and then up another. Soon, she looked behind her to see if anything was following her, and saw that there was nothing in sight… in fact, the street was dead quiet. She looked around nervously, then up in fright as the streetlights went abruptly dead. She began to panic… she didn't know what to do. She was so far into the dark alley she couldn't possibly find her way back to a busy street. Her eyes were barely adjusting as she groped out for the wall. Instead her hands touched material and a warm body underneath. She shrieked and stumbled back.

"Jareth?" She almost whispered, desperately hoping that was it him.

There was no answer and she bit back a whimper of fear. She edged backwards until she felt another wall behind her and scrambled away quickly, keeping her side to the wall for leverage. She moved as silently as she could but she couldn't quiet her panicked gasps for breath or the furious beating of her heart. It wasn't long before she could actually sense the person behind her begin to follow her… yet he made no sound. Sarah moved more quickly until she suddenly ran out of wall and straight into a dead end. Everything was so dark and her fear was almost suffocating. Stifling another cry of terror, she reached out for another wall and her fingers brushed coarse fabric.

She screamed in fright, spinning to run away but the person grabbed her, pulling her back into a body. A person wearing a worn leather jacket and a rock hard chest underneath a thin t-shirt dug into her back. She froze, feeling the person's body all along the back of her and his breath in her ear.

"At last…" he purred.

Sarah stiffened at the unfamiliar voice.

"Sarah…" he whispered, his unusually strong hands beginning to crush her arms. She opened her mouth to scream, but it never came, because the man was suddenly thrown off her, and someone else was here with them. The man was hauled off of her so quickly that he dropped her, and she crumpled to the ground. She sensed, more than saw, the man tense, preparing for a battle, and the alley felt even darker with thick, angry energy.

One second she was surrounded by darkness, and the next a streetlight flickered on, and a large black shadow leapt into the dim circle of light. A broad sweep of one gauntlet-covered hand sent the man who had seized Sarah flying into the air. Sarah clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming any further as the man leapt back to his feet as if he had merely been slapped and sent his gloved fist straight unto Batman's cheek.

Batman reeled back, almost knocked over by the sheer, overwhelming strength of the blow. But he quickly regained his footing and stared him down with his unyielding, obsidian eyes.

Sarah looked up and could finally see who had been stalking her. A tall, muscular man stood before her covered in black; not unlike Batman's choice of costume. But he wore no mask. He was clearly of Scandinavian descent, and if he didn't have the hate-filled fury of a madman blanketing his countenance, Sarah would have thought him strangely handsome. His thick, blonde hair was slightly dirty and was slicked back over a strong skull, which framed his nearly translucent blue eyes.

"Let her go," Batman demanded with a voice as cold and hard as stone. "Your fight is with me."

Yuri grimaced in a most unsettling attempt to smile and came up with a mixture of leer and contempt. He was already feeling roused by Batman's power of endurance, by his deadly calm appearance.

Sarah felt icy fingers trickle down her spine, but Batman remained unshaken. His eyes bore into his as if he wanted to brand them by fire. He knew full well that he had no attention to spare to any distractions, as he came to the realization that his and Sarah's life was at stake here. Yuri was the leader of some of the most ruthless men in Gotham – Yuri himself was a vile man of the most intense malevolence he had ever encountered.

"No," Batman replied, his voice dangerously low, "you will not touch her." He changed his standard defensive stance into an aggressive one.

Yuri's beautiful, horrible eyes flared up in excitement. "I've been looking forward to a fight with you for a long time."

Batman wasted no words in reply, summoning instead all of his training, his feared savagery, and let his combatant brain take over from his rational mind, as he had been taught to do. His pupils were enlarged and glazed over, blurring the gray of his irises, and the heady wildly electrifying feeling of adrenaline pumped into his system, making his legs tremble with tension. The spirit of deadly jiujitsu overcame him, and in a heartbeat he was ready to die and deal death alike.

Yuri chuckled at the sight, his foul smile tugging at his thin lips. But his smile vanished all too quickly and was replaced by a fierce roar. Yuri drew a massive blade from its sheath on his back – an eighteen inch stainless steel blade with a deep blood groove, and serrations on the front edge. The worn leather handle was outfitted with a spiked pommel. With lightning speed, Yuri brought the monstrosity down toward Batman's shoulder.

Sarah ducked and rushed to the side of the alleyway, watching as Batman brought up his arm to block the sword. Again and again, Yuri struck his sword against his opponent's armor, but Batman anticipated every move. The feel and agility of a physical weapon was certainly not foreign to Yuri, in fact, it was looked as if he was moving another body part. But Batman fought with just as much agility and strength as Yuri did. They blocked and dodged blows and kicks to the other; until finally, Yuri's blade became stuck on the scallops of his enemy's arm, Yuri swung his fist toward him, but Batman caught it.

"You're no assassin," Batman taunted. He kicked Yuri's knee out, and as he went down he booted his face. "You're practice."

Yuri fell to the ground, holding his face. Sarah saw him spit blood from his mouth before he picked up his sword again, the blade scraping against the pavement. But Batman wanted him down. He struck him with one massive fist to the temple and with pure adrenaline, picked him up and threw him against the wall opposite Sarah. It was completely unorthodox and unlike anything he had ever done. But seeing Yuri attempting to hurt Sarah brought about the brutal anger in his blood he had not felt in years.

Sarah cowered against the wall at hearing the sick thud of body and brick. She looked up with wide, fear-ridden eyes at Batman. He stared down at her then looked over Yuri. He was not dead, but he was no executioner; he would not kill him. He would be tried like every other criminal.

He looked over at Sarah again. She stayed against the side of the wall, pressing her body against it. Never in all of his travels and his training had he seen someone as scared as she was now. She had no idea what kind of evil she had just faced – and barely survived.

Her emerald-gold eyes were blazing - large, penetrating, and wise beyond their years. They locked on to his and for a moment, he was no longer Batman or Bruce Wayne, but an ordinary man caught within her spell. Soon, he began to realize that his very soul was being laid bare for her to see. A slight flinch of panic in him broke the spell and her eyes flicked past him. She shrunk back against the wall in terror. He turned his head. Behind him shapes began to move out of the shadows toward the alleyway. More men were coming. Much more than before. He needed to move quickly and get Sarah out before it was too late.

But Sarah panicked at the sight of more men. She screamed before she jumped to her feet and did the only thing she could of – run.

She raced back through the streets again. She couldn't think clearly or straight, all she could do was run; get as far away as she possibly could.

She ran faster, her arms and legs pumping as much adrenaline as they could. She could feel something behind her, something was catching up.

Sarah's heart began to throb painfully. She had heard a rustling sound like this nearly hundreds of times before, but it brought her no comfort now.

Her whole body was numb from pain and exhaustion, but her mind was alert when the sound came closer and closer until a pair of arms closed around her. And she screamed aloud when her feet left the ground and her whole body became airborne.

* * *


	14. Innocent One

Lieutenant Jim Gordon stood out on the rooftop of the police station, the spotlight, termed affectionately as the 'bat signal' was piercing its sign through the clouds above. He was alone looking out across the city.

"_Another long night,"_ the Lieutenant thought.

His men had gotten an anonymous tip that a gang of drug dealers they had been looking for had congregated in an old warehouse down by the docks. Nothing could have prepared them for what they found instead. Hidden in the darkest corner of the warehouse was a body, chained to the wall, lifeless and bloody. She had no identification on her, her face had been grotesquely mutilated, her teeth knocked out, her fingerprints skinned off; some even looked like they were cut off. Whoever the girl was, and who specifically was behind this didn't want anyone to find her identity out. There were virtually no clues as to the incidence, at least nothing of real substance. They could not even make any arrests. Someone had wanted them to find the mutilated girl – it was a warning.

"Gordon?" a raspy voice spoke. Jim turned around to face the direction of the speaker. He looked into two black holes that held no emotion whatsoever.

Gordon killed the searchlight and the two men stood opposite each other in the dark.

"What is it tonight?" Batman continued on.

Gordon gave no hesitation in his reply; the two men were well used to their working relationship and had thus passed the uncertainty of words. "A warehouse down by the docks. We got an anonymous tip to check it out, but we found this instead." He handed over freshly developed pictures of the cadaver. Batman studied the pictures without the slightest hesitation, then looked up at his silent friend.

"Have you identified it?"

"The only thing we know as of yet is that she's female. We have no name, no known connection, obviously, no information. The only thing we found was a lock of hair from her scalp… what was left of it."

"I'll do what I can."

"Thanks." Gordon lifted his cup to him and turned away to look up at the sky for a second. When he looked back, the Batman was gone.

* * *

"How is she doing?"

"She's resting, Mr. Wayne," the nurse said calmly, "we gave her a few sedatives to calm her nerves. She was pretty shaken when the Batman brought her in."

He smiled faintly. "Maybe he's not so bad after all."

The nurse couldn't seem to smile with him. She seemed to hesitate, but it was her duty to relay all the information to him. "There is on thing the doctors are concerned about, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce remained silent, listening.

"Her blood pressure is very high and her heart palpitations are highly erratic. She may be under a lot of stress or on the verge of suffering from exhaustion. Last night didn't exactly help her condition. She could also be suffering from delusions. When she was brought in, her fever was very high and she was talking nonsensically. When we were running our tests she was conscious but I don't think she even knew what we were doing. Something is not right, but we're going to do everything we can."

"Do you have to keep her here for observation?"

"We would like to. We have managed to contact her family and we are working out everything we can financially."

"I'll see to that."

The nurse nodded, understanding.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I think after you made the arrangements for a private room you deserve that right." The nurse led Bruce Wayne down the hall toward a private wing of the hospital.

Batman was lucky to have gotten to Sarah just in time last night. She shouldn't have run, but when you were as scared as she was, what choice do you have? She passed out in his arms right away – she didn't even have a chance to see who had tried to kidnap her. He couldn't leave her alone at the Theater and not at her house. The very least he could do was take her where there was plenty of people around and maybe as Bruce Wayne he could come in as soon as possible and check up on her.

And the nurse had been right. Before bringing her into the hospital, Sarah was talking in riddles as she lay helplessly collapsed in his arms. She began to run a high fever and she tossed uneasily, all the while speaking names he had never heard before – Toby, Ludo, Clark, Jareth. Jareth was the name she had said over and over again, like a mantra. But through her feverish blather she managed another name – Bruce.

But he had no time to waste for flattery. In desperation, he let his savagery as Batman down. He tore off one glove with his teeth and laid a bare hand on her temple, brushing back her damp hair.

"I'm here, Sarah," he whispered into her ear.

At the sound of his soft voice, Sarah relaxed against him and fell into a deep slumber. He was shocked to say the least. But when he brought her in and handed her over to the attendees, she immediately began her hysteria again. Without another word or even a look, Batman left it to the doctors to diagnose.

The next morning, Bruce Wayne came in claiming he had heard a friend of his had taken ill and was admitted to the hospital. Seeing as the family had not yet been reached, he took it upon himself to order tests for Sarah. Just in case.

The nurse led Bruce into the private room where Sarah lay sleeping with one hand on her stomach. Her chest rose and fell in time with her deep breathing, and her mouth remained slightly open.

The nurse turned to Bruce. "How did you find out she was here again, Mr. Wayne?"

"Oh, a colleague of mine is a pharmaceutical salesman here. He recognized her from opening night at the Theater. I made her acquaintance that night."

She nodded her head, acquiescing. She wouldn't press the matter any further. "Who knows how long she will be out for," she said. "You're more than welcome to make yourself comfortable and wait, though." She made her way toward the door. "I'll be back later to check her stats."

Bruce smiled after her. "Thanks."

After the nurse closed the door behind her, Bruce pulled a chair from the corner, settled himself in, and waited…

* * *

The stiff blankets, the small bed, the flat pillow – everything felt foreign to her. Where was she? What happened? As she opened her eyes, everything came flooding back to Sarah; at least, everything up until… Her breath hitched in her throat when she laid eyes on Bruce Wayne sitting next to her bed and flipping through a GQ magazine.

Her voice was no more than a timid whisper. "Bruce?"

Bruce looked up from his magazine, surprised and relieved that she had finally woken up. "Hello, Sarah," he said quietly, putting aside the magazine. "How are you feeling?"

She blinked and looked around the hospital room with dazed eyes. "Where am I? What happened?"

"Gotham City General Hospital," he answered. "You were brought here last night."

She gazed at him, her eyes wide. "What?"

"Here," he reached over and pressed the button that would raise the upper half of the bed. Still a bit faint, she slowly adjusted herself and sank deeper into the pillow, her eyes darting back to Bruce nervously.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"I talked to the Commissioner not long ago. It seems you have a few admirers from the Underground."

Her face lost all of its color. "What?!" she nearly screamed.

"Mob bosses," he confirmed.

"O-oh…" she breathed. She sank back even further, relieved, somewhat. For one horrible moment, she thought Bruce knew more than he let on. And that would have been awkward, to say the very least. But she looked back at him. Did he just say mob bosses?"

"From what I gather," he continued, "you've been targeted. But our masked vigilante got to you before anyone else did. He brought you here where he thought it would be safe."

Sarah frowned and she looked carefully at Bruce. There was a vulnerability in him now that she had not noticed before. "Then what are you doing here, Bruce?"

Bruce stood from his chair and sat slowly on the edge of her bed. "Sarah, I wanted to talk with you about something."

Sarah stared at him with wide eyes. "If this is about another date, I really don't think this is the right time…"

He almost had to laugh. But he managed to keep a straight face. "No, not about that… considering your condition and what happened last night, I would feel a lot better if you stayed somewhere… closer."

Sarah tilted her head at him skeptically.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Sarah. Despite what happened at our last meeting… I care about you. I care about you a lot, and the last thing I want to see or hear is that you were hurt, or worse. For your health and safety, I think it might be best if you stayed with me at the penthouse."

Sarah's eyes widened. "With you? Are you serious?"

Bruce drew back, but smiled. "Am I that repulsive?"

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, I didn't mean it that way. I think you're very attractive." Her eyes widened at her own reply.

"Ah, so the truth is revealed."

"Look, I can't stay with you. It's… it's…"

"Inappropriate? Tasteless? Dare I say, forbidden?"

"It's impossible!" she shouted, her voice laced with troubled disbelief. "And it's not funny, it's totally out of the question!"

"I swear, it's nothing implied, at all. And it's not an inconvenience. You would have your own room, bathroom, everything. You wouldn't even see me, if that's what you want."

Sarah's eyes widened… Good God, he was serious. He was expecting that they live in the same house. Well, it wasn't really a house; more like a modern castle… She quickly looked away from him and drew away. She was completely speechless to say the least. This was the last thing she would ever expect to hear from Bruce. She didn't even think she would see him again considering their last meeting.

"Yes," she said, turning her head away. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." She tried not to think about the fact that she was scared out of her mind, that she was almost killed… That thought alone was certainly a lot to take.

"Sarah," Bruce reached out for her hand. She didn't draw away, but watched him with wary eyes. "That's why I'm asking you to stay with me. Knowing the mobs of Gotham, they'll hunt you down across the country, across the world if they have to." He had to turn away from the horror in her eyes, but he kept talking. "You can't go back to Coley Square, and you can't go back to your parents, that would put all of you in danger."

Sarah felt chills running down her body. She couldn't imagine putting her family in danger because of her own selfish need for safety. No, there was absolutely no way she could put Toby in danger like that.

"The Witness Protection Program is an option," Bruce said, "but you would have to give up being Sarah Williams completely. Your identity, your family, your friends, your work, everything would be lost to you. And even if you moved to Switzerland under a new name there's no guarantee they won't find you." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Despite the best of intentions, Gotham is still suffering from years of moral decay. You're not in Metropolis anymore." He turned his eyes away and his voice became deep, distant. Almost as if it weren't his own. "Gotham City is an anvil upon which one is broken or tempered. Including yours truly."

Sarah didn't say anything for a moment. If she were younger she would have started screaming and yelling at the implication that she couldn't take care of herself, but she was past that sort of behavior. At least with Bruce. She quietly absorbed everything he had said, remembering that he lost his parents at a devastating age. Finally, she spoke. "What did I do?" she asked in a small voice.

Bruce looked down at his hands. "I don't know."

He was lying. Sarah could plainly see, although he was a trying very hard not to let it show.

"What do they want with me?" she tried again. "I've never done anything… made any shady deals or-or borrowed money from them, or…"

"Someone made a deal for you," Bruce said a little too loudly.

"W-who?"

"I don't know."

Another lie. He certainly knew more than he was letting on, but Sarah somehow knew that he wasn't lying about someone making a deal for her – whatever that meant. The strength in his voice was proof of it.

She took another shaky breath, and could feel a sharp pain of fear in her chest as she did so. "It's a bad idea, Bruce. What would people think? I could lose my job, I could…"

"No one would have to know," he added. "The only other person would be Alfred, and I trust him with my life."

Sarah looked into his eyes finally understanding. _"I really am in danger by staying here," _she realized sadly. _"Jareth was right."_

And so was Bruce. Gotham was not Metropolis – it was the opposite. There was no superhuman being who could protect her, the city, and everyone inside of it. Batman was only one man. How much could he possibly do?

Sarah lowered her head and looked at her hands. "And what if I said yes?" she asked meekly. She looked up at him and found his face expressionless, but his eyes betrayed him. They were hopeful.

"You would be well taken care of," he said truthfully. "I swear to you, the penthouse is the safest place in Gotham."

She watched him carefully. She could tell he wasn't implying anything. Perhaps his intentions were good. He really did care for her… But why should she give in so easily to Bruce when she couldn't even to do that for Jareth? It would be easy to say it was in her nature. But she knew deep down that it was more than that. They had always sparred with one another; and she had always defied him, since the beginning. But she was afraid, afraid what might happen if she let her guard and her pride down for Jareth… despite the fact that she knew she still loved him. Perhaps that was what love _really_ was. It wasn't like the storybooks at all. Of course it was complicated, but it was also terrifying to let someone have that much control over you. And she wasn't in love with Bruce.

Bruce saw the understanding and the trepidation in her eyes. "I'm so sorry about all of this. I wish I could take it all away. Only believe me when I say I don't want any harm to come to you."

"Bruce, I wasn't expecting any of this," her words sounded odd coming from her swollen throat, threatening her with more tears. "I don't want any of this…"

"I know. You can take as long as you need to decide what you think is best."

Sarah was quiet for a moment as she took everything in. After what happened last night, she needed security, she needed to feel safe. She couldn't rely on Jareth or even Batman to come along and rescue her all the time. It was actually sort of pathetic when she thought about it. And she still did not want to leave. She was given such an opportunity that she couldn't turn it down now. She was living out her dream, and she intended to see it through. But if Alexandra or anyone else found out, that was it, she would be finished. A date was one thing, but living with him was something entirely different. It was well, scandalous to say the least. But after weeks, even months of hesitation did she truly trust him? Did she feel safe with him? By agreeing to stay with him, it meant entrusting her life into his hands.

Sarah looked up at him. Yes, the sincerity that shown through was not a façade. She could trust him.

She bit her lip, flustered and anxious. If people were to think she moved into a new apartment away from the other cast members, then chances were people might not even know she were staying with him. And she trusted Alfred just as much as she did Bruce.

Sarah lifted her head and gave Bruce a defiant look. "If I agree, would you be able to find out everything you can? Meaning what exactly kind of deal was made behind my back?"

He nodded. "You have my word."

She paused, soaking in his honesty. "And I get all the privacy I want?"

"I'll never come within twenty feet of you."

"And it will only be between you, me, and Alfred?"

"It's not exactly within my best interests to tell anyone either. I have a reputation to keep too, you know." He added one of his trademark smiles.

He was right. His status was just as much on the line just as much as hers was, perhaps even more so.

She took another deep breath. Someone was about to become very angry with her…

* * *

Her face to the side, she held the diamond in her fingertips, soothed by the weight and warmth of it. She breathed in the musky headiness of the air when it suddenly became humid – like that of a sultry night; and she did not recoil when an arm slid across her, comforting her.

"I couldn't sleep," she said mindlessly.

"I know," Jareth responded.

Still, she kept her face turned from him but asked, "What happened?"

He was silent for a long moment before answering, "They found you."

She sighed deeply. She couldn't tell him about her decision now, all she could do was take in this one, rare tender moment they had together. She shifted her weary body and placed her hand on his. "I don't remember anything," she murmured. "They said that I was delusional last night… that I was terrified out of my mind… but I don't remember anything after he came for me." She squeezed her eyes shut and stifled a sob. "What have I done?" Her question wasn't directed at Jareth, but at everything that had happened to her… she simply couldn't understand it. She turned her head and met his eyes – eyes that were consumed and nearly glazed over. "I wanted to stay, Jareth. I couldn't leave… but I haven't done anything wrong…"

Jareth frowned and looked up at the monitors and the tubes that were connected to Sarah's body. And as he turned his head in the dim light, Sarah could see lines etched across his beautiful face, dark circles were prominent, and his crescent moon hung against a near-bone frame. Sympathy and shame overwhelmed her. She never meant for any harm to come to him. What was happening to him?

"What's wrong?" she asked slowly.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice edged with icy indifference. He obviously knew his once striking form was slowly and surely wasting away. He began to draw away from her and slipped his arm from the warmth of her body. He was silently accusing her of her ignorance, of her constant defiance of him.

"No," she reached out for him, wanting more of his touch; to ensure that he was here with her. She couldn't be here alone in this solitary hospital room tonight. "Jareth," she whispered, pleading with him, "I'm sorry. I don't want to die…"

He suddenly took her face in both of his hands and turned it up to him, looking intently into her eyes. "You will not die, Sarah," he said with conviction, with power. "I promise you. I'm never going to leave you… I can never give you up." He spoke to her in a calm but serious voice. She became still as she listened to him and became aware of the unfathomable depth that lurked beneath his words. She looked into his eyes searching for the compassion that she knew he was capable of and at long last his austere face softened and he bent down and kissed her, brushing his lips over hers. There was nothing passionate or possessive about it. He didn't wait for her to give in and open up to him. She only closed her eyes and savored the feel of his lips on hers.

* * *

The Russian glared at his best men, Yuri and Petrov, under the smoky light of his underground club. The Russian didn't like what he saw. Petrov had a sizeable gash on his left eye and his brown hair was matted with dirt and dried blood. Yuri only had a split lip, but his crushed ego was something his boss knew was more painful than a broken back.

"Well?" The Russian said impatiently.

"We tried," Petrov answered thickly. "But Batman was there too…"

"Batman," The Russian cut him off. "I thought this was going to be a strictly personal matter. I thought you said Batman would want nothing to do with this!"

"Batman doesn't know the whole plan," Yuri said in his dark voice. "He only showed up because there were too many of us. I knew all along that it only should have been me!"

The Russian was unphased by Yuri's outburst. "And he broke you, nonetheless." He threw his hands up and shook his head angrily. "Forget it! Forget this whole thing! It's not worth all this trouble!"

"Boss," Yuri said, forcing himself to calm his voice, "one of my boys told me one of Maroni's men tried for her, too."

The Russian snorted. "And?"

Yuri's eyes glittered. A little white lie never hurt him every once in a while. According to one of his boys, Maroni's man swore he saw Batman rise from out of the ground like a black pillar. He spread his wings around the girl, Sarah, and bared his fanged teeth at him. Yuri thought that this was quite the exaggeration. Batman may have been an urban legend to some, but he knew better; he had just been in a fight with him. And he was very much a man. A man could bleed…

"And somehow she got away."

Yuri thought that keeping Batman out of this as much as possible was the only way to keep his plan alive. He knew his boss would find the girl's supposed escape to be a huge blow to Maroni. The Russian couldn't back down now.

"And so what happened to her last night?"

Yuri hid his smile under a smear of blood. "We'll find her, boss, don't worry."

"Worry." The Russian heaved a sigh as he reached for his brandy, poured it down his throat, and set the glass down again. "That's all I do these days."

"We'll find her," Yuri said again, "we'll bring Maroni down and then Gotham will be ours completely. The Batman will be no match against The Russians."

* * *

Alexandra sat in her office managing her accounts and sorting through the arrangements for the Company's new play. Her large, expensive desk stood dominant among posters and pictures of smash hit productions and the highest paid Broadway actors. A huge polished bookcase took up an entire wall, filled with first edition books, scripts, monologues, and of course, plays. Even her knick-knacks looked like antiques one could only find in Venice or Istanbul.

A knock at her door didn't even cause her to look up. "Come in," she called.

Bruce sauntered in and immediately owned the room just by his presence.

Alexandra looked up and her head flinched back. She tried to sound as amiable as possible. "Mr. Wayne, what a pleasant surprise."

"_I'm sure," _he thought_._ "Hello, Alexandra," he said while smiling. "I'm glad I caught you." He made himself comfortable in the chair provided.

"What can I do for you?"

Bruce flashed his trademark smirk. "I'm here to lay out some… changes."

"Changes?" Alexandra blinked rapidly. "What sort of changes? I thought everything was up to your standards…"

"Oh, they are. But these changes are of a more personal matter." Bruce made himself more comfortable. "You see, Ms. Williams and I are getting along fantastically. In fact, we've decided to make it exclusive."

Alexandra's mouth dropped open. "But, Mr. Wayne, that's not possible!"

Bruce's smirk never wavered. "I beg to differ. Ms. Williams and I have even decided that we would like to take our relationship to the next level. We'll be moving in together."

"Together? Oh, Mr. Wayne, I really must protest. My best pupil…"

"She's not your pupil. She's your star. You know people are coming to see her perform because of her talent and let's be honest, her looks; which is why she's staying in the Company. Because if you remember, Alexandra, I outrank you and what I say goes." Bruce let his reply sink in, and tried hard not to show his delight in Alexandra's obvious discomfort. "Sarah Williams keeps her job and becomes exclusive with me. Now, she won't be entitled to any special treatment. Things around here will remain as is. But she will have her own personal driver and I've decided to beef up security around here too. If you're unhappy with this change of events and decide to find employment someplace else I won't hold anything against you; in fact, I'd be happy to be a reference for you."

Alexandra could not reply, she couldn't even speak.

Bruce's smile never faded as he rose as gracefully and purposefully as a giant cat. "I knew you'd understand. I won't take up anymore of your precious time. I'm sure we'll both be seeing you very soon. Have a nice day."

And with that, Bruce Wayne walked out the door.

* * *

**AN:** I'll try to get as much as I can in the next few weeks. A very dear, kindred spirit recently passed away. Writing is so very therapeutic, and this story even moreso. Chicago is where he hailed from and where I had been visiting him quite recently. So it has been very hard to describe Gotham City without thinking of Chicago. He loved Bowie just as much as I did. And he loved music and the drums. I will love and miss my rock star soul mate for the rest of my long life...


	15. As the Nights Pass

Sarah stood on shaky feet, ignoring the slight haze of vertigo that seeped into her brain. She was also tired and worn. With Jareth in her hospital room all night, it had not been easy for her to sleep; especially since she had not told him that she was now residing in Bruce's penthouse. Now that she was here and standing inside the marble entrance hall, the paintings and busts all regarding her with their cold and lifeless eyes. Jareth knew she was here.

"I shall show you to your room, Miss Williams," Alfred said, his voice and his countenance good-humored. He seemed happy to have a new guest at the penthouse. But she took no satisfaction in it. This was a last resort for her. If this didn't work, if she was finally forced to leave, she would be heartbroken that she couldn't follow her dream. A dream that she promised herself a long time ago.

Sarah followed Alfred out of the main foyer. She felt it best to remain quiet until invited to speak, and continued to follow Alfred up the stairs and down a wide corridor.

Alfred spoke over his shoulder, "I'm quite pleased that you have decided to stay with us. I think you'll find this to be a comfortable home; and as Master Bruce said before, I would be happy to take you to the Theater whenever you wish. Did I ever mention that I was once an actor, as well?"

Sarah perked up slightly. "You were?"

"Oh yes, on the London stage. Most fun I've ever had in my life. But times became hard and I needed to make ends meet. So, I took up jobs as chauffeurs until I was lucky enough to serve under the Wayne family." Opening the door, he showed Sarah into a rather lovely French-inspired suite in shades of mahogany, ivory, and gold. "Does it meet with your approval?"

Sarah gaped, taking in the beautiful room. "Yes…"

There was a mirrored armoire, a dresser, and a nightstand. While not overly lavish, it was comfortable and it was obvious that effort had been expended to make it cheerful. Vases of flowers were standing around the room and the curtains were drawn back to reveal an open set of doors that led out onto a small balcony containing two chairs and a table. And across from the bed was a fireplace, waiting for the comfort of a warm, crackling fire.

Alfred set her suitcases down. "Everything you packed and sent early this morning has already arrived. I hope you don't mind but I've taken the liberty of unpacking for you. Down to your right is your dressing room, and to your left is the door to the lavatory."

Sarah walked up to the balcony door and stared out unto the city. She heard everything Alfred was saying, but did not respond.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink, Miss Williams?"

She finally turned to Alfred. "No, thank you. I think I'll just unpack my suitcases."

"Very well, miss. Please don't hesitate to call for me if you should need anything."

"Thank you, Alfred." She gazed out the door again, but before Alfred left the room she suddenly turned back. "Wait."

"Yes, miss?"

"Mr. Wayne won't be coming back anytime soon, will he?"

"No, miss. He'll be in the office all day and has a dinner engagement with several clients. I don't expect him to return until well after midnight."

Relieved, she finally cracked a slight smile.

Alfred inclined his head to her. He knew that she was uncomfortable to say the least about staying here, and that anymore contact between her and Bruce would only increase her discomfort. He smiled at her then, as if trying to quell her anxiety to the best of his ability. But Sarah only turned back to the door and to the bustling city before her. As soon as she heard Alfred shut the door behind him, she hung her head wearily.

She didn't even want to think about Jareth's reaction to her decision now. He was probably so angry, so frustrated with her to the point that he may not even show himself to her again. She opened the door, stepped out onto the balcony and looked out. It was twilight, the world turning gray and a hazy shade of blue.

Here she was, on top of the world it seemed. This is where some people dreamed to be, when all of their hopes and dreams came true. The wealthy, the celebrated, the fortunate ones… Sarah didn't feel any of these things. She felt lost, alone, and trapped…

"_If only Clark were here…" _she thought bitterly, _"he would have taken me away from this a long time ago."_

She could see herself sitting out here for hours looking out over the horizon. She would wait, and wait, and wait just to see a small figure in the distance flying towards her balcony… Sarah jerked her head back and quickly walked back into her room, closing the doors behind her. She silently promised herself she would not step foot onto that balcony again.

* * *

Alfred knocked tentatively on Sarah's door twice then three times. When she didn't answer, he opened her door and walked inside Sarah's lavish, new bedroom. He half-expected her to be lounging on her oversized bed or enjoying the night breeze from her balcony, instead he found her curled up on a blanket in front of the fireplace; the fire casting a luminous, but strange glow to her face. Her eyes were watching the fire play and spit upward, but she did not see it.

"Excuse me, miss," Alfred said quietly, politely.

Sarah didn't jump at the sound of his voice. She turned her head slowly, as if in a trance, and said nothing.

"You haven't eaten anything all day," Alfred continued, "I thought you might want something before you turn in."

Sarah's voice was almost as dark as her room. "I'm not hungry."

A chill went through Alfred. The spirit and self-determination he first saw in Sarah was gone. He had never seen anyone besides his young master so completely withdrawn; and the sadness that crushed her very being was almost disturbing.

"Very well." Alfred turned on his heel and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He was slow to leave, just in case Sarah called back out to him, but she remained silent.

Alfred sighed, walking down the hallway to his own room. He knew the poor girl did not intentionally start any trouble with The Russians and Maroni's gang. She had nowhere else to go but here, and he knew that here was one of the last places she wanted to be. Alfred was completely against the idea of having here. He knew his master's intentions were not well placed. He had brought her here under a false sense of security; made her believe that this was the safest place in Gotham to go. Unfortunately, this was the truth. But how long would it be before Sarah lost herself completely in here? Before she found out the ultimate truth?

Alfred had no doubt that a part of Bruce wanted to protect her. But the project he was becoming so obsessed with had completely outweighed all moral pretenses. Bruce was using Sarah to gain as much information as he could. And he was an accomplice in it all. But what could he possibly do? Betray someone who he had been like a father to since childhood and let a defenseless woman loose in the streets?

It was a complicated mess of situation to say the least. It was only a matter of time before the tension that would build in this place would crack and fall into cutting pieces. He loved Bruce, he truly did, but Alfred thought that his master's dark side brought out the dark side in every person he ever knew.

* * *

The atmosphere was so heavy in her bedroom Sarah thought she would faint. But of course, this was only to ensure her that his presence was real, that he was here with her tonight. She wetted her dry lips and tried to close her eyes. But she knew sleep wouldn't come; not even a light one. Not with so many thoughts roaming wildly in her head. That's what she would try and do now; sit in front of the fire and keep thinking… think on everything at once; keep every thought, memory, and word constantly turning in her head. It would keep out the music that played constantly, incessantly around her.

"_Let your dreams begin, let your darker side give in…"_

"_No!"_

Sarah inhaled sharply as her fists dug deeper into her stomach. She sat in front of the fire, fighting the urge to rock back and forth. She would fight temptation without losing all sense of her mind. She would not let the music in, she would not let the lights dance in front of her, she would not let him appear, or say another word…

Jareth had become a state of mind for her, and he represented her darker and creative side. While it seemed wonderful to allow herself to rest in that dark world, to allow her imagination to flow freely, to openly feel all those emotions of despair, she knew she couldn't allow herself to slip over into the dark side of depression. She was fighting a fight within herself - her own despair. She knew she needed to rise up, fight against it, and reach for the little light that was left in her world. Unfortunately, that little light was non-existent in Gotham City. The only beacon she could possibly reach for was Bruce. And even though he was fabulously wealthy, he simply wasn't rich enough for her imagination. But if it came down to her sanity and for all the safe, worldly pleasures imaginable, then she would have gladly left the dark, imaginative side of her mind a long time ago.

But then her heart shattered at the thought of leaving Jareth alone in the pits of _his_ despair.

She would betray and deny him. The thorn of rejection would pierce his heart like an arrow. She knew that if she chose a life with Bruce, she would only be drawn to him for protection and out of fear for the Goblin King who had become her Phantom.

In the end, it didn't matter who she ended up with. She knew Jareth would always remain within her… perhaps for the rest of her life.

A knock at the door and someone she knew opened it. An old man, or not so old perhaps…

She didn't really herself saying 'I'm not hungry'. It was more of a thought that somehow left her mouth. It could have been Jareth speaking for her. But it didn't matter to her. As long as she kept the music and the lights out of her mind…

How long could she last here? There was nowhere for her to go. She would go mad within a week caged in here with a man she both resented and wanted. Unfortunately, one man had turned into two. Sarah was beyond grateful that one had decided to stay away… for now. Matters seemed to be getting worse and worse. This was the perfect opportunity for Jareth to strike again – when she was at her most vulnerable; when she felt trapped, alone, and troubled.

But she could also feel his anger. It swirled and coalesced like of a vortex of hot energy just behind her. She wasn't at all surprised he was so furious with her. The one person he mistrusted above everyone else, the one he was so jealous of; Sarah was now sharing a home with. But this wasn't her home, and he knew that too; perhaps that was why Jareth decided to hold back his anger – like a snarling dog on a short leash.

Sarah knew she couldn't keep the music out forever. And when she couldn't keep her boundaries and mental walls up any longer, the Goblin King would either become a very real and very angry entity in her world again, or she would become a part of his.

* * *

Sarah sat, curled up against the corner of a luxurious sofa. She was bathed in sensuous daylight that accentuated the creamy whites and warm marigold palette of the Bruce's penthouse living room. The sunlight was all she needed to read the many stacks of books that were provided for her to pass the time.

She looked up and smiled faintly when Alfred appeared with a tray of snacks and tea. "If you'd like, miss," he said as he poured hot water out of a teapot, "you can write down a list of books you'd like and I can go to the City Library to fetch them for you."

Sarah frowned inwardly. She would never get used to people doing things for her she could easily do herself. And this situation made everything twice as hard. She couldn't even go for a walk if she wanted to. She was trapped inside a gilded cage.

"Thank you," Sarah replied, "that would be nice."

Alfred glanced over at the stack of books Sarah had placed on the coffee table. Twain, Bronte, Wilde, Homer, Chopin, Poe, Keats, Anderson, Mitchell…

But he cocked his head at one book. Curious, Alfred reached over and pulled it out of the stack. It was an older book, possibly more than fifty years from the worn and dusty look of it. The front cover was blank but the binding read in clear, gold print: 'Mythology'.

"I thought his father kept this one his private study," Alfred remarked solemnly.

Sarah turned bright red and reached out for it. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly, "I'll put it back…"

"Oh, it's quite all right miss," Alfred assured. "I only thought most of his father's books were lost in the fire. Well, that and I'm curious as to know why all the literature and then have this one," he held up the wine-red book, "thrown in the mix."

Sarah shrugged. "I always liked old stories." She absently flipped through a copy of 'Alice in Wonderland'. "Mythology, legends, fairy tales... There's always some truth, something real in all of them." She looked up at him with her clear, doe eyes. "Do you have a favorite?"

"I do," he replied cheerfully, shifting his feet to a more comfortable stance. "The Mongolian creation myth."

Sarah's brow furrowed. She thought she had heard them all. "I don't think I'm familiar with that one."

"Well, the story goes that the doe and the wolf meet… two creatures of different natures. In the myth, they both understand that they need the qualities of the other if they want to survive in a harsh world, and they agree, then, to survive with each other. But to do this, they must first learn to love. And to love means they must to be cease to be who they are, otherwise they will never be able to live together as one. Eventually, the wolf comes to accept that his instinct, which is to hunt to survive, now serves the greater purpose of finding someone with whom he can rebuild the hostile world they both live in."

Sarah had to mentally push what Alfred just told her out of her head. It seemed too familiar…

Sarah reached out for the book, and Alfred readily handed it to her. She flipped through the stiff pages, and stopped at one passage. "Tobias…" she said aloud. She ran a hand over the page, smoothing it down. "What is this?"

"The Book of Tobias?" Alfred inquired as he glanced over to get a closer look. "Well, let me see," Alfred paused, picking at his memory. "I believe the gist of it is a virgin named Sara weds, only to have her husband slain by the demon Asmodeus, the correspondent to lust, on her wedding night. Sara, still a virgin, marries again, and the same thing happens. Actually, the same thing occurs a total of seven times. Then Tobias marries Sara. The arch-angel Raphael then banishes the demon Asmodeus, and Tobias and Sara presumably live happily ever after."

Alfred clasped his hands behind his back and regarded Sarah with his clear, blue eyes. "Some have thought that the demon may have had a personal attraction to Sara, but others, like the Church, make the claim that God allowed the demon to slay these men because they entered marriage with unholy motives, and that the permission given by God to the demon seems to have a motive to chasten man's lust and sanctify the act of marriage. I personally don't agree with the idea of the Almighty giving a demon permission to slay men in order to illustrate a lesson in morality. It strikes me as somewhat improbable."

Sarah finally closed the book and sank deeper into the sofa. Too many stories, too many coincidences…

"Do you believe in just good and evil, Alfred?" she asked, "is there supposed to be an in between?"

"I believe that almost everything in this world has a dual nature, both light and dark; that there are elements of both. That's what keeps everything in balance. Everyone has an eternal struggle with good and evil, it's what makes us human."

"_What if you weren't human?"_ Sarah thought. _"Would you have the same battle raging inside of you?"_

Alfred regarded Sarah's silence. She was still so young… it wasn't right to keep her locked in here.

"Well," he said, changing the subject, "I'd better get dinner started. At least someone in this household will enjoy a fresh meal and not some bloody leftovers!"

* * *

For the next week, Sarah lived at Bruce's penthouse as if it were her own for she rarely saw Bruce. He was never around at night and when he did return, he would sleep in his room until well past noon. But his room was on the other side of the penthouse and Sarah had only seen Bruce pass through the hallways maybe once or twice. Alfred was very discrete about taking her to the Theater. He would always drop her off at least half a block down the street but then follow her to make sure she reached her destination. And then she would walk to the black car again after she was finished with her rehearsals, which became more and more frequent since she received the title role in 'Salome' – the role of the princess she initially did not want.

Bruce had refused any kind of payment from her for staying at the penthouse as much as she had insisted in the beginning even before she moved in. He simply wouldn't hear of it. Instead, he asked to take the mysterious jewelry she had received – the yellow diamond bracelet and the ruby earrings – to the police department. Sarah readily handed the pieces over to him. She was glad to be rid of at least some of the heavy burden.

It took a while to get used to the security Bruce had installed at his penthouse; and he spared absolutely no expense. But the even harder part was getting used to all of the security cameras inside and out, the alarms, even the high-tech lasers that stretched across different rooms. She should have given up midnight snacks a long time ago anyway. Her regular meals she took in her room, but on occasion, she would prefer to eat in the kitchen and converse with Alfred. Being in this enormous penthouse by themselves, they both enjoyed each other's company immensely. It brought a ray of warmth to have a friend and confidante as she was still unwell. She could no longer speak with her Labyrinth friends, Bruce was never around (not that she complained), and she outright refused to acknowledge Jareth's presence.

Yet everyday she was becoming more and more withdrawn. She became increasingly moody with her cast members and eventually, they all stayed clear of their star player. But her erratic behavior continued to intensify. One moment, she felt light-headed and almost giddy and the next she became angry and paranoid until she fought with herself to regain some sort of self-control before it turned into aggression.

She never wanted to live a life of captivity, and now she was. She was a hypocrite, a liar, a manipulator… Sarah was beginning to hate herself.

Before she climbed the last few steps to the hallway leading to her bedroom, she slowed and craned her neck over in the direction of Bruce's bedroom. She did wonder as to why he was gone so often – both day and night. Well, he was Bruce Wayne the Prince of Gotham. Or so he was called by Forbes Magazine.

Sarah had seen it in the breakfast nook Alfred hadn't gotten to that morning. She skimmed through it when she saw Bruce's famous prince-charming looks on the cover. When she did come upon his profile the only words that seemed burned into her memory was: estimated at 6.8 billion, making him the seventh richest man in the world.

Living with a billionaire… it was bizarre to be living out her very fantastic childhood dreams; however, the circumstances were very different than the chocolate box fairytales. And what did she tell her parents? That she was still living in the pink house. Her father and step-mother would have died if they ever found out she was living with Bruce Wayne in his palace. But she was sure Karen would have come to terms with it a lot faster than her father would.

She finally turned away and continued up the stairs. She forced the thought of secretly living with the seventh richest man out of her mind.

Not many people were able to live a blissful, prosperous life full of beauty. The life Sarah was somewhat living now. If the doors were open to her, this existence would have been perfect. Wouldn't it? What did she see in Bruce? Was he a saint or a sinner? Was he able to touch her at her passions or lot in life, or was he shallow and self-centered? Was he to be envied or pitied?

Bruce could be a light for her, a 'guide', someone who could protect and save her. Sarah was sure that this is what Jareth wished to be. But deep down, Sarah wanted a normal, secure life. It was what she always wanted. At least since the night of the Labyrinth. She knew she could never be strong enough to live a life that wasn't conventional. She could survive a Labyrinth, its creatures, and a King for thirteen hours; but for an eternity? And even if somehow, something had indeed happened between her and Clark, it most likely would not have worked.

Bruce may have seemed shallow, but Sarah believed him to be truly genuine. He did care for her. She knew that.

But the choice Jareth was giving her, trying to force on her, a life of illusions and pretense in his world, was certainly playing a role in why she would most likely choose a life with Bruce. She needed someone to trust to care for her, to never deceive or break her heart…

* * *

After seeing Sarah walk back to her room, Bruce remembered why he was staying away so often. He had come to the conclusion that she wasn't so much a distraction as she was a reason to spend a little more time at home from now on. This was not a good thing. He had taken Sarah in to hide her away from what seemed like every mob in Gotham. He only prayed they would not look here, although there was a very good chance. That was the reason for all the extra security. But there was always the chance that she could wander by herself in the middle of night and find documents and data that concerned his project. It was slowly overshadowing his thoughts and his precious time. He hoped that taking Sarah in would prove to be beneficial to him in more ways than one.

But as much as he told himself he would never become emotionally attached, it was becoming more and more difficult around someone as beautiful and complex as Sarah. It was like having a multifaceted work of art in his vast collection, and after years and years of study and scrutiny, one could never find its true meaning. It moved and enraged him.

She was a complete enigma to him. And he didn't know whether to pursue it or ignore it completely. He thought he had been keeping this personal conflict to himself. But it would seem that Alfred knew everything.

It was a conversation that had taken place earlier when Bruce had come home early after an uneventful night. He was sprawled out on the couch in his study, eyes wide open, but not seeing the book case he was focused on. Alfred had observed the young man's disposition from the door way.

"She's a very well bred lady, I would think, Master Bruce."

Bruce's eyes flinched at the sound of his confidant's voice. A small smile crept across his face. He could think of a thousand ways to describe Sarah and well-bred was not one that had ever come to mind. "She's not a horse, Alfred."

"Quite so then, sir. She is very nice to look at."

Bruce was a little shocked at the forthright manner in which his usually reserved butler spoke. He sat up and looked at his butler. "She confides in you, doesn't she?"

"Doesn't confide as much as she converses. I think more than anything she may need someone her own age to speak with." He looked Bruce up and down with his keen eyes for a moment. "Or someone closer." Bruce smirked at the remark. He was at least ten years older than Sarah, not that age had ever stopped him before.

"Especially in her condition," Alfred pressed on. "I have yet to see any improvement in her. You might want to some time with her as you used to. Not as a date, but as a friend. A companion." Alfred paused to observe his master's expression.

"_Yeah, it's not for lack of trying…_" Bruce had tried to gather the nerve to meet with Sarah, and everyday he turned on his heel and walked the other way. He promised her she would have as much privacy as possible. He would be violating that promise if he so much as looked toward her bedroom door. He had to admit, he wasn't used to this kind of anxiety… like he was back in middle school again. Some nerves of steel he had.

Bruce looked Alfred in the eye. "How does breakfast on the balcony sound?"

A smile passed over his face before answering, "I will prepare something for tomorrow then, sir."

* * *

The sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door woke Sarah. For a moment, she was disoriented and couldn't remember where she was, and then the sound of her rehearsal papers falling from her lap brought everything back. She sat up abruptly, the bright sunlight shining from into the room distorting her vision.

The knock sounded again and Sarah jumped out of bed. It must be Alfred with Sarah's breakfast.

Sarah opened the door to find Bruce standing there. His eyebrows shot up as his eyes moved over her, and the pleasant smile on his face quickly widened into a grin.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully. "Did you sleep all right?"

Sarah turned bright red and hurriedly grasped the neckline of her nightgown, pulling it closed. "No, I was up most of the night reading my lines."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't sleep too well either. I got in rather late," his voice was in a clearly amused tone. "Would you like to go to breakfast?"

She glanced over at the clock behind her and her eyes grew wider. "At seven a.m.?"

"Oh, well. Later?"

"I don't eat breakfast. It makes me nauseous." It was an outright lie. She knew where Bruce was trying to go with this.

"Oh, no. Of course. Lunch, then?"

"Bruce! You said you would give me my space!"

"I thought I was. But I also thought it would be nice if I could spend a little time with my tenant."

Sarah flushed at the blunt remark, and he immediately regretted saying that. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she replied quietly, her eyes downcast.

"When can I see you today?"

She blinked and looked back up at him. He certainly knew how to bounce back quickly. "I… I'll be rehearsing for 'Salome' all day."

"All day?" Bruce's voice rose in shock. "That's crazy! You can't..."

"Shh!" Sarah tried to quiet him for fear that Alfred might turn the corner at any moment and see them together at such an early hour in front of her bedroom…

"Will you join me on the rooftop?" he persisted. "Can you do that much?"

"I can't."

Bruce fell back against the door frame and brought a hand to his chest in complete over exaggeration. "Young woman," his voice changed to feigned anguish, "if you do not meet with me, I shall go mad! Positively insane, and do crazed things to myself."

Sarah reached out and put her hand on his chest, trying to push him away. "Shh!" she hissed.

But Bruce caught her hand in his and held it… for a bit too long. His voice changed back, and he spoke sincerely. "Join me. Please." When she didn't say anything, he straightened up again and his lips pulled back into a soft smile. "Say, 'Bruce' – that's me - 'Thank you'. 'I would love to meet with you, and talk with you, and get to know you, and not be afraid of you.' Say 'Yes'".

She gave him a sly, crooked smile and pulled her hand back before she answered, "Fine. Eleven o'clock. And on the rooftop, not on the balcony." Without another word, she slammed the door in his face.

Bruce smiled to himself before saying, "She's crazy about me."

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for your kind words of love and support.


	16. Uncovered Ecstacy

Sarah shook out her hands nervously as she made her way down the halls. She had told Bruce to meet her at eleven o'clock on the rooftop but she couldn't stay in her room for much longer. She was almost expecting Jareth to come and berate her for accepting Bruce's offer. Fortunately, he never appeared.

She still had at least an hour before she was going to meet Bruce, and before long she found herself wandering through rooms and hallways she had never been before. One room in particular had caught her attention while passing it. The door was slightly ajar and allowed for one stream of sunlight to crack through. She pushed the door open slowly and swept the hair from her eyes as she gazed in wonder at the contents of the room.

The carpeted floor was lit from one angle by a stained glass window to the right of her. Each wall was completely covered with books, papers, and manuscripts. Patches of tinted light came in from the colorful glass windows and shed rays of light onto the stuffy air. Directly across from her was a grand piano and just behind that in between two book cases was an enormous grandfather clock. This was Bruce's private study.

Sarah steadily made her way toward the walls of books and the various objects he had stacked inside – some were meant as bookends and others ended up in glass cases. Different hues of illumination flickered across her face as she passed the beams of color that had sifted through the stained glass window. Stopping in front of the piano, she ran her fingers over the ivory keys then moved on to his magnificent mahogany desk. She ran her fingers over the corners of it as well but suddenly stopped and stared at a black binder sitting by itself on a side table.

Her curiosity beckoned and before long she found herself opening the front cover. Her breath came out unevenly and she slumped over just a bit. Superman was staring back at her and so was the headline – 'I Spent the Night with Superman' by Lois Lane.

This was the first newspaper she had read and kept when the news came of a flying man with a red cape. It was when she was reading this for the first time that she had met Clark Kent… she nearly laughed out loud at the irony.

"It is a little odd to have a portfolio full of the man of steel."

Sarah gasped at the words and quickly turned around. Bruce stood before her, casually dressed, his hands in his pockets. For Sarah, he was more attractive like this than in an expensive black and white suit.

"Sorry," Sarah tucked her hair behind her ears. "I didn't mean to pry in here."

"It's alright," he smiled intriguingly. "I have to admit, I've always been somewhat fascinated by it."

Sarah looked down and flipped through the scrapbook of newspaper clippings. "Most of these are from The Daily Planet," she noted.

Bruce nodded and smiled shrewdly. "Wayne Entertainment operates The Daily Planet."

"Oh…" So he was technically Clark's superior too; at least when Clark was still working there.

Bruce turned and walked around his desk, scanning through different stacks of paperwork.

"Why do you have all these articles?" Sarah asked, trying not to sound too curious.

Bruce shrugged, indifferent. "Like I said, I find it all fascinating."

She tilted her head, peering into the portfolio further and putting her acting skills into use. "Which part?" she asked innocently. "The super powers or the fact that he's an alien?"

He looked up at her sudden interest, but looked back down again and answered apathetically, "Both." Somehow, Bruce was able to see right through her. He dropped all interest in his overdue paperwork and walked back around his desk. "Shall we?" His hands put back lazily in his pockets; he crooked his elbow to her, offering his arm.

Sarah smiled, but with a hidden sigh as she took Bruce's arm.

They went out and strolled around the rooftop looking over the city; with Bruce doing most of the talking. She used to enjoy being out in the fresh air on a spring day after the rain, but it was certainly chilly at forty floors up. And as Sarah looked out over the city, she felt a sharp pang in her chest. How she wanted to walk among people again! She longed to be in the park on a day like this or simply buy a cup of coffee without the fear of being kidnapped, or worse.

But what was worse, far worse, was the fact that she really was enjoying Bruce's company, his closeness, his warmth… everything she had thought of him before was nearly wiped clean. She was beginning to see Bruce for how he truly was. It was then that she thought that perhaps Bruce only created the playboy public persona to hide who he truly was and let the world see someone they expect of a young, single billionaire. Even if it came to acting dim-witted and self-absorbed to further the act. Or perhaps it was something to distract him from the pain of his childhood…

When they got to the terrace overlooking the city spread before them, Bruce turned to look at Sarah. "Are you lonely here?"

She half-smiled and ducked her head. "Not at all," she lied. She turned and looked out at the radiant afternoon sunshine reflected off the windows of skyscrapers. "Alfred is here."

She looked down and up again at Bruce when he took her gently by the arm and turned her around to look at him. His handsome, aristocratic face wore a look of that genuine honesty she had seen before. He spoke in low, soft tones. "I only want you to be happy."

Sarah brushed stray locks of hair from her face and held them back. "I am," she lied again. How could she possible tell him that her spirit was dying by being locked up in this tower?

"What about you?" she asked. "Aren't you happy here?"

Bruce didn't answer for so long that Sarah thought that he was simply going to ignore her. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly strained. "Sometimes," he answered. "That's why I ask, it's just you and Alfred. I would like to stay and be in my home more often… and spend more time with you. If you want me to."

Startled, she looked into his eyes. When Bruce glanced away first, Sarah almost reeled in shock. Did he really think that she was this lonely? Or was he up to something else?

"Just what are you implying?" she asked slowly. "I thought you wouldn't…"

"I know what I said before," he said softly. "I just want you to feel safe… and happy."

She opened her mouth to say that she was happy, but the white lie she was telling was festering into something more. Bruce was right, she was lonely... and becoming increasingly paranoid. It wouldn't hurt to have someone around to keep someone else at a safe distance.

She shook her head, unwilling to lie about it any further. "It's only… this _is_ a big place," she admitted. "But you know why I'm wary about having you around."

"I know," he replied softly. "But you know how I feel, Sarah. If you don't want me here I'll understand, but if you change your mind I will try and be the perfect gentleman." He said this with the usual teasing gleam in his eye.

She looked at him uncertainly.

"You'd be surprised at how many people really know my private life."

"I thought your private life was dating gorgeous models and going to glamorous parties," she said, her voice sharp.

Bruce grinned briefly and shrugged his shoulders. "That's what the public wants to see." He turned to her. "It's not what I really want though."

Sarah's breath caught and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't mistake that tone of voice, the way she caught him looking at her from the corner of her eye. What's more, Bruce had said exactly what she thought – he was playing a role for the world to see.

"You're letting this be completely up to me, aren't you?" Sarah asked, her cheeks reddening.

"Unfortunately, yes."

She shook her head. "I don't know. You're putting me in a bad spot."

"Really?" he asked teasingly. "I never thought my house was all that bad."

"Please don't joke," she persisted. "This is serious. I mean, we only had two dates, that I was very much against in the first place, and now I'm living with you..."

Bruce put a hand to his chest. "Again, you pierce me through the heart, woman!" His wolfish grin remained on his face. He was determined to make the best of the given situation. "I can't imagine the torture you must put your other suitors through."

Sarah frowned and looked away. "How nice of you to think I have so many."

"I'm sure all of these other men must plague your heart out," Bruce said softly, his eyes keen. "How do you manage?"

Sarah forced herself to shrug. "I can handle them."

Leaning closer, Bruce murmured, "You don't have to. Say the word and I'll get rid of the nuisances."

She closed her eyes. _"I don't think I'd let you…"_

"Well?" Bruce's voice brought her back, playful yet held an undercurrent of impatience. Sarah couldn't stop the small laugh that came tumbling from her mouth. His breath had tickled her neck then, rousing physical sensations that were thrilling, intimate, enticing her to sidle closer to him, making her wonder what it would be like if his lips actually brushed her skin…

Ashamed by her wayward thoughts, she concealed her confusion by biting her lip and turning away. She didn't answer him and thankfully, he didn't push the conversation any further. They walked in silence again, and Sarah gave some time to her thoughts. After a few moments, she came to the conclusion that she was incredibly attracted to Bruce – it was hard not to be. Yet despite how much she wanted, needed to believe that he was a truly honest, caring man she couldn't shake the feeling that she should still be wary of him. There was something hidden behind his stormy gray eyes – something dark and full of deep secrets. What would it take for him to open up to her without crossing the line? Would she even want to know what lurked behind those eyes of his…

* * *

The sky was a mind-blowing sunset of airbrush red with the silhouette of the architectural wonders of Gotham City. Despite its harshness, Gotham possessed an otherworldly beauty at this magic hour, a maze of shadows and orange and yellow rainbows.

"What a nice touch to the end of a long day," Alfred cheerfully remarked. He set down Sarah's usual cup of tea in front of her. "I hope the books I brought from the library were enough to keep you entertained."

Sarah had to bite her tongue from saying anything too harsh. She continued to read about the symbolism of different animals in the red book of Mythology that used to belong to the late Thomas Wayne. Actually, she had been re-reading the symbolism of owls and bats; and memorizing the pictures that were printed inside.

Of course, the usual stigma came with both winged creatures. Creatures of the night; always associated with witches, shapeshifters, devils, and vampires. But some Native American tribes believed the bat to be a healer. That it represented death and rebirth in a spiritual sense. He was also a guardian of the night, and oftentimes associated with revenge. In her mind's eye, she suddenly had an image of a bat alone in a black cave, and no one was with him.

Sarah ran a finger over a picture of an owl in mid-flight and spoke without thinking. "The owl… a messenger of death?"

Alfred glanced up at her. "In some cultures, perhaps," he remarked. "Death for some could mean great change. Much like the Death card in a Tarot deck is meant to be interpreted. It all depends on how you look at things."

Sarah watched Alfred pour her tea for a moment. She thought she never wanted to know, to even think about asking; but her morbid curiosity was getting the best of her.

"Alfred," Sarah's voice was an uneasy whisper. "What happened to Bruce's parents?"

Alfred let a pent-up sigh escape. He chewed this over for a minute, unable to hide the nagging truth. But he finally shook his head somberly, straightened, and looked her in the eye. "Young master Bruce was just about eight years old when it happened. One night, him and his parents were leaving the old theater and decided to take a shortcut through an alley. A man named Joe Chill pulled out a gun and shot both of his parents, right in front of him."

Sarah inhaled a sharp breath and reeled back. It felt like a cold wind had hit her square in her chest. Disbelief washed over her, followed by guilt, pity, and finally understanding. But an understanding of why Bruce became the person he was, not of the horror he had to cope with everyday since. Sarah could see a young boy, barely older than Toby, sobbing beside his parents' still bodies on the trash-strewn pavement of a lonely alley in Gotham City.

"Oh my god," she whispered. She closed her book and set it aside. "I never knew…"

"I didn't think he could bring himself to tell you."

Sarah took several deep breaths. Losing his parents at such an age, and then to have them killed right in front of him. She was amazed that Bruce wasn't a complete wreck. She closed her eyes briefly, and as she did, a new feeling of admiration for Bruce began to form…

"Why were they killed?"

"Chill claimed he needed some quick cash because of the hard times." But Alfred shook his head, unconvinced. "His parents were quite influential in Gotham years ago, and I think some people wanted them gone. I believe he was hired to do the job."

Sarah couldn't concentrate on her reading after she spoke with Alfred. She kept seeing a small boy alone in the dark; numb to the cold and the eventual anguish that would follow. The boy watched as the blood crawled closer and closer to him. He had lost everything - love, security, hope, respect, life itself. The boy's future was completely gone in an instant. His faith in humanity was torn away from him. His sanity was surely seeping away with the blood that crept away into the gutter…

She wanted to hold Bruce in her arms and tell him everything was going to be alright, even though it was far from it. She wanted so much to understand in his pain just to bring him a little peace or comfort, but it was clear that she would never come to know how deep Bruce's sorrow went. She caught herself several times stopping in front of the long hallway that led to the master bedroom. Caught between the need to console and the want that was building in the pit of her stomach, Sarah finally turned the other direction and walked toward her bedroom. Besides reading, eating, and rehearsing for 'Salome' there was nothing else for Sarah to do but sleep. Although sleep was few and far between these days, and she doubted she would get any tonight. The images of Bruce and his parents just wouldn't leave her mind as much as she tried to block them out…

Sarah stopped suddenly, a lean shadow catching the corner of her eye. Her breath caught as she forced her eyes to focus.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

Jareth smirked, his eyes glittering in the dark. She hadn't seen the deviously true Goblin King in months. He looked like he had just swallowed a very large, very tasty canary.

"How are you this evening, Sarah?" he asked.

She held a finger to her lips, afraid someone would have heard him. She opened her bedroom door and darted her eyes back down along the hallway and up again before she looked inside, silently motioning for him to follow. She stepped inside and shut her door; as she expected, Jareth was already inside her room in front of the fireplace. The fire had already been lit and it illuminated his lithe form.

Sarah took him in without thinking. He looked positively regal, dressed in black tights and shining boots, his full shirt sleeves and his collar threaded with a glittering gold. He wore a tight waistcoat of the purest black velvet, and a cloak flowed out behind him. He held a black cane in his black gloved hand with a silver grip. His shirt was slightly higher at the neck than usual, and his blond hair was shining. He looked like the fallen angel she had once seen before. He was so sure of himself then, so confident it radiated out into his already exotically beautiful form. It had been in Metropolis after Superman fled the city in defeat of General Zod. At that moment, she almost became a Queen. She tore her wandering eyes from his slender body and looked up. When she saw his slow smile, she looked away.

Suddenly very weary and tired of standing on her feet, Sarah lowered herself to the floor and settled herself in front of the fireplace. The light sweater she wore somewhat shielded her from the fire, but it didn't matter. She wrapped her arms around herself and absently ran her hands over her arms. Jareth stayed standing, resting his arm on the mantelpiece and staring into the fire.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked, trying to break the silence.

"Perhaps," he replied, tugging on his glove absently. He then looked up and his smile grew wryly. "Is it a good one so far?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned to the roaring fire. She stared at the dancing flames that popped and flared every few moments. Nothing was said between them for a long time. Even if he was furious with her now she would show no fear. That would only increase his hostility, his so-called mind control over her; the mind control that she subconsciously allowed.

Sarah finally hugged her knees to her chest before murmuring, "Are you angry with me?"

Jareth stood before the fire with such poise and depth that it seemed he should be the lord of the manor, and not Bruce. He was the passionate Heathcliff from 'Wuthering Heights' and the brooding Rochester from 'Jane Eyre' ready to throw the heroine emotionally off balance. All he needed was his pack of hounds at his feet.

His chest moved in rhythm to his deep breathing. Sarah could see he was trying very hard to remain passive, despite the way his nostrils flared. "I've waited long enough to come to you," he said. He shifted his weight then, and the light of the flame reflected brightly off his silver pendant. His face gave away no emotion, much like a bird of prey would not…

Sarah swallowed nervously and asked, "What does the myth of the owl mean to you?"

He waved his hand in the air and stared intently into the fire. "There have been so many interpretations as to what owls have come to represent. Wisdom, stealth, secrets…"

"Deception?"

"A messenger of death." He turned and stared at her pointedly. "That myth is almost universal, Sarah. I did however; take you to the Underground once, did I not? The owl is a sacred guardian of the afterlife, ruler of the night, a seer and keeper of souls transitioning from one plane of existence to another." He smiled then, all seriousness gone. But still that hint of callousness at the corner of his lips. "But isn't this curious? The owl can help unmask those who would deceive or take advantage of you." He lifted one arched eyebrow. "Anyone you know, Sarah?"

"Besides you?"

Jareth cocked his head, but he was clearly not amused.

"No," Sarah insisted at the implied allegation. "Bruce has been good to me and he's never tried to lay a finger on me. And even if he did I would never allow it. I never see him, anyway."

"I believe you are protesting a bit too much, my dear." His ice cold eyes betrayed the thin smile on his face.

"Only because I don't want you to hurt him..."

Jareth sighed heavily and turned away. "I had hoped to pass all that."

Now Sarah's voice turned cold, dark; something her behavior had become accustomed to despite the person she really was. "Regardless of what was done, it doesn't hide the fact that I've seen your cruel side, Jareth." She scowled in an almost sinister way. "Sadistic, even."

Jareth returned to the fireside and rested his arm again on the mantelpiece. "All I knew at that moment was anger, defeat, near desperation. I had never done that to anyone, well, anyone who didn't deserve it…" He saw the appalled look on Sarah's face and his voice rose in his defense. "I am a ruler of my kingdom Sarah, and nothing will come in the way of stability and order." He stopped to take a deep breath and looking down to her with the light glimmering in his eyes he said, "There are few regrets I have because of who I am."

"Do you regret that night?"

He studied her intently, and she felt her breath catch when she looked into his eyes. His eyes were always so beautiful; she knew she would never behold eyes like that from anyone else. His winged eyebrows were drawing down into a glare, and his face was set with a mask of coldness that was somehow more intimidating than any mask she had seen before. Sarah bit her own lip, but did not look away from him, nor did he look away from her.

"Why don't you say something?" Sarah's voice trembled with fear and anger. "Anything."

The fire suddenly died down to just a small ember. The only remaining light cast an ominous glow to Jareth's sharp features. "Loneliness and isolation is a human condition that touches many lives," he said gravely. "This is my humanity. You live in a world where people are shallow; where they abandon and reject each other. No one shows compassion or courtesy in the simplest of actions. The love of many has grown cold. Is it any wonder you yearn for beauty as I do?"

"Don't make excuses for what you've done," she snapped, "or what you're doing to me. It doesn't justify anything."

The corner of Jareth's lips curled upward, almost menacingly. "You know so much of my world, Sarah, and yet so little."

His soft, deep voice sent a chill from Sarah's skull to the bottom of her cold feet…

A light knock at her bedroom door startled the both of them. She looked behind her shoulder at the door and back at Jareth again. His face still remained in a state of cold and disheartened apathy.

The knock sounded again, followed by, "Miss Williams?"

It was Alfred. She sighed deeply and pushed herself to her feet. She went to the door and opened it slightly, afraid that Alfred might see a stranger in Bruce's well-secured home. Alfred smiled kindly at her, his clear blue eyes lively even at this late hour.

"Do you need anything before you turn in, miss?"

"No thank you, Alfred. I'm fine."

"Very well, then. Good night, miss."

She smiled as much as she could. "Thank you, Alfred. Good night."

He smiled again, turned and walked back down the hallway.

She closed her door slowly, and she knew without turning that Jareth had gone. Outside her window, a rainstorm began to form and grow. It rained in torrents that night.

* * *

Lieutenant Gordon watched a squadron of his best men drive away into the black and blue twilight. He shoved his hands in pockets and kicked a stray rock with the heel of his boot off the sidewalk. The wind suddenly picked up and blew a lock of unruly hair away from his face.

"Another storm's coming."

Gordon looked up at the sound of the deep, raspy voice and found Batman standing among the shadows of a dark entryway.

"Anything yet?" Gordon asked, his voice quiet but firm.

"I did as much as I could," Batman replied, handing back the photos Gordon had given him several weeks before. "Her name was Kathryn Banks. Missing since February. My guess is that she got caught up in the wrong kind of crowd."

"Who?"

"The Russians won't go down without a fight. This could have been a warning from them. That they're not done with Gotham yet."

"It couldn't be they just kidnapped her?"

"What did your toxicology report come up with?"

"It won't be ready for a few more days."

"Here are my results." Batman handed Gordon another file. "Heroine, meth, cocaine, but the heaviest traces I found were of hallucinogens. It's your call."

Gordon stared at Batman's black armor, cape, and cowl carefully, deliberately. The name remained hanging between them in the air.

Dr. Crane aka Scarecrow.

He responsible for releasing powerful hallucinogenic toxins into The Narrows almost a year ago. His whereabouts remained unknown. But it was very likely that he had struck some sort of drug trafficking deal with The Russians.

Gordon shook his head then and opened the file. He scanned through the first page before asking, "Would this have been an experiment gone terribly wrong?"

No answer. Gordon already knew before he looked up that the Batman had already gone.

* * *

Swiftly, silently, Batman placed his ear piece in place and pressed the receiver into the wall. Even from outside the massive walls of the theater he could still every word of conversation from within. He didn't have to wait long to hear a door slam followed by the sounds of harsh, heavy breathing.

"Alexandra." Batman immediately recognized Sal Maroni's voice. "Do you know what kind of spot you've put me in?"

"Mr. Maroni, I… I can't tell you how sorry… I mean, I can explain everything…"

"Explain what? How you screwed yourself over? How you screwed me over? Is this how you handle deals with _me_?"

"I…"

"I'm very disappointed," Sal's voice became low. "First, you gave me your word for complete discretion, then you led me to believe she was completely in on the arrangement, And all the while you've been taking my money like the greedy bitch you are…"

"Please, Mr. Maroni," Alexandra pleaded. "Let me explain…"

"There's nothing left to explain," Sal sneered. "I have to hear from one of my own men that word on the street is that she's seeing the Prince of Gotham himself."

Outside, Batman didn't flinch at the sound of his obscene epithet, but at the agitation in Sal's voice.

This was it. Bruce knew the minute he walked into Alexandra's office days ago that he had taken a huge risk. This could either make matters much worse or it would be the end of it all together.

Batman could just imagine Alexandra's mouth dropping open, scared into silence. He seriously doubted Sal would do anything but walk away and leave her in a mess of her own debt, to be dealt with at another time.

And that's exactly what happened.

Batman eased his muscles a bit as he put his earpiece back into his utility belt. Sooner or later, Alexandra would pay for her debts. He scowled deeply. He really shouldn't do anything. She had gotten herself, not to mention innocent people tied up into her own web of greed. But if he didn't do anything, another life would weigh heavily on his conscious. That was something he didn't have the strength for.

The very least he could do was inform Lieutenant Gordon of her misdemeanor. Sal Maroni would get his money back one way or another. Because no matter how hard Batman had tried in the past to weed out corruption in the law, someone was always there to undermine it.

* * *

**AN:** I will try and post the next few chapters as soon as I can since I worked on them at the same time. A Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Solstice, Happy New Year, etc, etc, etc...

Shalom y Amor


	17. Sleeping Sober

Sarah closed the robe around her swimsuit-clad body and finally gained the courage to open the door. She couldn't stand it any longer; she needed to get out of her bedroom. After a long week of constant rehearsals and continual mood swings, she was completely burned out. While driving her back to the penthouse, Alfred had mentioned the outdoor pool Sarah had yet to try.

"The pool is heated during the cold season," he said, "but if you wish to use it tonight, then I would be glad to prepare it for you."

It wasn't a bad idea. She couldn't remember the last time she relaxed in a heated pool. And she could have it all to herself.

But if she were to run into Bruce… no, she didn't want to think about could happen. But at the same time, she couldn't avoid him forever. He still spent his days at Wayne Tower while she was at the Theater, but she made sure to stay in her room if he came back to the penthouse earlier than expected. Fortunately, he never stayed for too long at night either.

And then there was Jareth. He had made no effort to contact her, to comfort her, to reassure her that he didn't hate her for being unintentionally drawn to Bruce. The old adage that said no news was good news was wrong, she was in anxious agony. Maybe he was planning something horrible for being so enraged at her. Maybe he had forgotten about her. Maybe he didn't care that she was burning for someone's touch…

Sarah calmed herself and quickly made her way down the hallways to the outdoor pool. She needed something that would relieve the pent up tension, and when she opened the glass doors to the large patio, she was almost ecstatic that Alfred had talked her into this.

The pool was at the top of the tower, with an amazing view of Gotham City. White marble statues of Greek and Roman deities adorned each corner of the pool and bronze mirrors were laid along the wide expanse of the walls. The vaulted arches and the dome above her were covered with mosaics of night blue, powdered with stars. The intense colors, the shimmering gold of the tiles, and the light of the city combined created a breathtaking effect.

She disrobed and lowered one foot into the steaming water, sighing deeply. She followed the four steps to the bottom of the pool, and submerged. Liquid warmth enveloped her. She was in the womb, protected by the power of crystals… a long time ago it seemed.

Sarah surfaced, slicking her black hair away from her face and blinking droplets of water from her eyelashes. She imagined herself as a beautiful sea nymph, innocently floating in clear water. She barely suppressed a laugh, she hadn't felt like this since she was thirteen. Before long, her thoughts began to float in time with her body. As always, her mind turned to him, the King of the Goblins. Jareth. She had been fighting him for so long it served her right that he didn't want to be with her. How could she continue like this? Day and night, the image of him… it almost undid her. How long could they keep this up? How long would they be at each other's throats, and for what?

Her thoughts then turned restless, lustful. Would he be a gentle lover, as she had always fantasized as early as her teenage years? Or would he be cruel and vicious, like he made himself to be?

She shook her head and took a deep breath. Where did that come from? She was lonely and it had been ages since she had been with a man. But she rarely ever had thoughts such as those. She was losing control… and how long would it take before she completely lost that?

She closed her eyes. Sighs escaped her pink lips as she waved her arms slowly up and down through the warm water. Some of the ache, the tension slowly left her body.

Her ears were muffled by the water, but she distinctly heard a loud splash next to her. Someone else had jumped into the water! She nearly shrieked in surprise, sank backwards, and surfaced spluttering. She stared in shock and let the water ripples strike her softly when Bruce finally surfaced.

"I thought I could join you," his silky voice echoed around her.

Sarah sank low in the water, hiding her swimsuit-clothed body in complete embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head. "Should I leave? It is a bit forward."

"N-no," she stammered, shrinking away from him. "It's your pool." She turned away and rolled her eyes up at how absurd she had just sounded.

He watched her slowly tread through the water. "Do you like it?" He looked up at the ceiling. "I tried to have it done in the style of my other one."

"Your other one?" she asked absently.

"The pool that was in my manor, before I burned it to the ground," he responded coolly. He looked over at Sarah again as she stopped and turned her head back. Her velvet black hair lay in wet tendrils against the back of her neck.

His hard chest was bare to her flushed gaze, his muscular arms flexed briefly as he dipped lower into the water and slowly lunged toward her. The water rippled over his body as he moved closer, and Sarah straightened herself from her defensive position, and met his look.

"Sarah," he said. "I don't know if you'll believe me or not… but I wasn't drunk that evening."

She blinked before looking him in the eye. He was telling her the truth.

"I believe you, Bruce."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, his eyes burning holes into her body. Sarah realized that even though she was tormented by loneliness and heartache, it was affecting him as well. To exist the last couple of weeks without a touch from her must have been a burning pain for him, especially when he knew he could have taken her at any moment…

She stared at him. "No," she finally said. "Don't go."

A smiled curved over his face so slowly that Sarah had time to feel heat flowing through her veins like molten liquid. He was stunning. He slowly took a handful of water laid it back over head, slicking his hair again. Sarah's heartbeat sped back up. His masculine grace took her breath away. His hair lay wet, slicked back against his head; which only enhanced his strong jaw and high cheekbones. Water streamed down his face and neck. He stood before her, thin lines of water beading on his naked chest. She wanted to go to him and run her hands over his prefect body; it had been so long since she touched a man's flesh.

She blinked and cocked her head slightly, trying to clear her mind. What was she just thinking? This wasn't her. She was never like this…

He reached down and grazed a finger down her neck and over her silver chain. Sarah had to suppress a shiver, despite the heat of the water.

"You wear this everywhere, don't you?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"Oh, it's nothing…" she pulled back and turned away slowly.

"It's beautiful…" he held a hand over her neck and barely touched her hair.

She stopped, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt Bruce pull her thick tresses back, then run his hand slowly along the side of her neck and down her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She turned and his look of determined desire faltered as he raised a trembling hand to her temple. Sarah suppressed a moan in her throat as she thought of the last month of long, sleep deprived nights.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

"So are you," Sarah said shakily.

"I don't want you to feel…" he murmured, reaching for her.

"It's alright," she whispered huskily.

She looked at him anxiously. She wanted this. Her body wanted this. It was like the core of her body was burning, pushing for this to happen. He began to dip his lips and search for hers, caressing her face with his heady breath. She began to give in and gently touched her lips to his…

"No!" Sarah pulled back fiercely. "No, I can't!"

Bruce stared in shock as she rushed through the water, up the stairs, and back into the penthouse.

Tears were starting to form in Sarah's eyes...

* * *

"_What have I done?!"_

Sarah hurried back to her room without looking behind her.

"_What have I done?! What have I done?!"_

The words screamed in her head as she slammed the door shut and grabbed at her hair.

"_Shit!"_

Her body and her mind had entered a state of shock. She stood still for a minute, letting the atrocity of what just happened slowly sink in.

"_He saw it…"_ she began to tremble. _"He saw everything, I know he did…"_

Sarah stifled a sob and took several deep breaths before she looked around her room, looking for any trace of Jareth, but there was none. She brought clenched fists to her forehead and tried to breathe normally.

"_No… I didn't do anything wrong. It was him, it was him…"_

After all the pleas and the promises Bruce had made to her about keeping his distance, about being a prefect gentleman, and making her fall complete at ease with him. This certainly blew all of that out the water, so to speak. Her emotions and her very sanity were in a precarious place. She feared her temptation would become too much and she would be putting both herself and Bruce in danger. She needed to be stronger than this. She _must_ be to survive this confinement.

She sniffed and hurried in and out of a hot shower. When she dried her hair and finally changed into her nightgown she kept glancing around nervously. She had the distinct feeling of being watched, she knew Jareth was not far. There was a strange, foreboding sense of danger approaching; the crackle of unseen electricity in the air just before a storm. In so many words, the room felt strange and unfriendly to her now.

She crawled into bed and left the lamp turned up so she could see. She didn't want to be here, in this room now. She had seriously considered knocking on Bruce's door, but that would be impossible. She was afraid he'd be angry with her, or worse, get the wrong impression.

Alfred had given her some books to read from the library to escape her solitary boredom, so she picked one up from her nightstand. "The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet". Sarah quickly put it back down and picked up "Jane Eyre". She put that one down too. "Pride and Prejudice" _No. _"The Awakening" _Nope. _"The Wizard of Oz" _Negative. _"The Raven" _Absolutely not._ "Madame Bovary" _Damn it!_

Huffing, Sarah crossed her arms and sat back into her pillows. It was amazing and infuriating how every little thing seemed coincidental to her. Considering her living situation, her job, her past, her love life… was that even a legitimate one?

"Damn your gifts of transcendence," she grumbled under her breath, staring at her books.

There should have been too many thoughts, too many wayward feelings that kept her awake far into the night. But there were none. After a time, she felt herself become drowsy; and after an hour, she could fight sleep no more, and she fell into a deep slumber…

* * *

Sarah lay in the same bed, sleeping on her back. But something felt different now. Someone was here with her. A hand lay on her stomach, and when she flinched at the touch, an arm wrapped her waist and pulled her closer.

Her eyes flew open. And her heart stopped when she saw a red and yellow 'S' before her. She looked up and saw Clark's smiling, sapphire blue eyes staring down into hers. She didn't hesitate to throw her arms around him and fell against his chest. She didn't have a chance for a smile, for she couldn't stop the flow of tears escaping her. She sobbed against her chest, but he only held her tight and raked his fingers through her hair and away from her damp face. He rested his cheek against her head and let her have her tears.

"_It's over,"_ she thought. He could finally take her far, far away from here. From the men who wanted her dead for no reason, from Jareth's secrets, from Bruce…

She clung desperately to him, her breathing ragged, her body shaking violently. "Clark," she finally sighed, "I don't know what to do."

His voice was comforting, familiar, soothing. "I wish I could be there with you."

Her eyes flew open again, the realization hitting her like an arrow through her heart. "I'm dreaming," she whispered.

"The crystal-"

"Is powerless without you."

"No, Sarah. You only believe it is. You're strong. You should try giving yourself a little more credit… maybe a little faith."

Her eyes focused on the fire burning in the fireplace. She stared at the dancing flames, wishing that they could burn away all feeling and emotion.

Not looking at him, she said, "I don't know what to do anymore."

He sighed deeply, his powerful chest rising and falling slowly. "That's not at all like you. Why do you deny yourself so much?"

She rose on one elbow and looked up at Clark, his raven black hair, his dazzling face. "What do you mean?"

He reached out and put a soft hand to her cheek. In a strangely calm voice he said, "Remember what I told you about your dreams. Embrace everything you have, Sarah. Don't deny what you fear any longer." He paused and gave her a piercing stare. "I can see it slowly emptying you of your spirit. How will you fight back if you don't have a little faith in yourself?"

"What am I supposed to do?" her voice almost became shrill. "I'm trapped here. Even if I could leave I'd be hunted down."

"You'll find a way," he replied, "as long as you have what was given to you at fifteen, you'll find a way." He finally smiled at her. How she had missed that smile. "You're too stubborn for your own good, you know."

She wiped away a tear and laughed quietly. "I know. I'm trying to ease up."

"Try harder." He paused for a moment and with a tender voice he asked, "It's because of him, isn't it?"

Sarah looked away, her eyes cast down. But Superman took her chin and lifted it so as to look at him.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and she held her breath in an attempt to not cry again. The effort made her throat ache and she gasped for air when she realized she was holding her breath.

"I wanted to forget so much," she said, "I didn't want it to be a game anymore. I tried to forget everything that he was, and everything that he came from…" She shook her head and her voice became weak again. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

"You have everything you need right in front of you," Superman said, a strange expression in his eyes. Sarah knew what those eyes meant: if only things had been much different. "Have the courage and the heart to take it."

Sarah took a deep breath and asked, "When are you coming back?" She glanced at him and flinched at the sadness in his eyes.

"I don't know if I can."

She ducked her head and looked away from him. "I miss you," she whispered. "I miss you so much."

Superman stared down at her with an expression that she had seen so many times before. Compassion, regret, love… but he couldn't say anything. A cold draft had entered the room and the fire suddenly went out. Sarah drew back and clutched Superman's arm. In the darkness, she could see the scowl forming on his face. He sat up slowly, intensely alert as something moved outside her bedroom door. It sounded like footsteps and then a strange noise, like something was gnawing on the walls outside.

"Listen…" she whispered to him.

She strained her ears for a moment but then shot up when a familiar voice called her name just outside her door. She instinctively reached out for Clark again, but her hands fell on empty sheets. She whipped her head around and found him gone. She was alone.

"_Sarah!"_

She scrambled up to the head of her bed and trembled violently at Jareth's voice rising to a crescendo. The air was freezing cold. She shivered and trembled in cold fear, finally breaking out into a horrified sweat. And then the door of her bedroom began to push itself open and expand like a piece of rubber.

"_Sarah!"_

She turned away and shielded her eyes. She couldn't face him alone. She wasn't strong enough…

"_SARAH!!"_

His voice filled the room like a thick fog and swirled around Sarah. She put her fists up to her ears and opened her mouth to scream. But no sound came. Only the hoarse sigh of someone robbed of breath. Her heart beat fiercely and the pulse of her blood was the only sound that flooded her ears. Her hands felt blue with cold as she curled inward, squeezing her eyes as tight as she could and tried to scream louder, longer than he…

Until all other sound faded and all she could hear was her own defiant cry…

* * *

A blinding flash of light enveloped her, and in an instant, she jumped, startling herself out of her own dream. She took a few breaths, her eyes struggling to focus on a white ceiling inside a grand bedroom – her bedroom. The pain was gone now, but in its place was a numbing exhaustion that made her feel strangely lightheaded.

She turned her head and was met with a pair of weathered blue eyes staring at her.

"Alfred?" she whispered. "What's wrong? What happened?" Her questions came in a steady stream.

"I heard you screaming, miss. I came as soon as I could… thinking the worst." His lower lip trembled just slightly; his eyes began to water.

Sarah's heart went out to him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. He was the last good thing left to her in what had become her world. The last real thing; real in every sense of the word.

But she restrained herself. She didn't want to be the little girl that needed to be taken care of. She didn't want to be afraid of the dark… Sarah sat up and looked out her window. It was still night. Looking at the clock, she realized she had only been asleep for ten minutes. It was only 12:30.

She sighed and brushed a stray hair from her face. She felt immense joy and complete sadness at the same time that after all this time, she had finally dreamed about Clark. She had been waiting for that dream for months and when it finally happened, it ended so horribly. Was Jareth somehow able to reach inside her dreams? Was he still so jealous of Superman that he had to react so violently? Or was it Sarah's subconscious that was warning her of Jareth's intense jealousy; that unless she wanted to feel the wrath of the Goblin King then even having a dream of Superman was forbidden.

Sarah sighed again as she turned over. Despite the end of her dream, she had seen Clark. That was all that mattered.

"I think I need a glass of water," she said, shuffling to the side of her bed.

"Here," Alfred bent to lend his hand.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. She swung her feet over the side and planted them firmly on the ground. It may have been the weeks of isolation, or her heart-sickness over Clark's absence, or her conflicting feelings over Bruce and Jareth. Perhaps it all culminated over this one profound dream. But her energy was suddenly drained from her.

Sarah was too numb and weak to stand and she promptly stumbled over. Alfred caught her before she fell over completely, and as she tried to straighten herself again, her diamond pendant came tumbling out of her shirt.

"Mother of God!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes threatening to pop out of his head.

It was the most radiant, not to mention the biggest jewel he had ever seen. The lamplight hit it just right and it shimmered brilliantly in a myriad of crystal white and glistening silver.

Sarah's eyes fell down to her chest and with trembling hands, quickly slipped it back under her shirt.

Alfred's lip twitched sardonically. "Forgive me," he said. "It's quite a beautiful jewel."

Sarah shook her head. "It's not from Bruce," she said defensively. "It was a gift from a friend."

"It's not my place to ask, miss." He held her arm as she slowly sat back on the bed.

Sarah sat, tense and alert, as she twisted the silver chain around her finger. She looked up at Alfred, who had been standing patiently beside her, he was at her service. She could ask him anything.

"Is this going to be my life, Alfred?"

Alfred's mouth turned into a frown. "I don't know, miss," his tone was honest, and held a trace of anger. He turned, pulled a chair from behind him, and sat down beside her. "Do you know what a dark night of the soul is?" he asked.

"No."

"Saint John of the Cross wrote a poem called The Dark Night of the Soul, and it is a narration of the journey of the soul from its bodily home to a union with God. The journey occurs at night. The darkness represents the hardships, difficulties, and pain that must be with in isolation in order to be reunited with the light of the world again. It is a spiritual journey that is meant to make you grow into a more resilient, brighter person."

She shook her head. "A dark night doesn't last a lifetime."

"No, it doesn't. But perhaps all this isolation will end soon, and you'll find that it prepared you for your emergence into a brighter future."

* * *

Batman looked out over the dark and gritty labyrinth that was his city – Gotham City. The night grew later and later and as he gazed out over his merciless kingdom his thoughts turned to the disturbing events as of late – Sal Maroni, Yuri, Sarah. Every night, for the past week he had been up late, trying to keep Gotham free from sin and attempt to ward off the unthinkable. Each morning, when he finally returned home, he went to Sarah's room to make sure she was safe. He always found her sleeping soundly, even if her room was stifling hot.

Except for tonight.

He shouldn't have gone to her; he should have left her alone in that pool. Because of what he did, her emotions were off balance now. She became confused, vulnerable; and he blamed himself entirely.

He looked down at the cars passing by below him. One of them was a police car driving away from an apartment complex. Two officers had just told a family that their daughter was found dead after being missing for several weeks.

Another girl was dead.

* * *

Bruce came up to his penthouse in the elevator, loosening his tie that he hardly wore throughout the night and let his head hang. The Russians were sending the Batman a message – that they would not cower before him.

He raked his fingers through his hair. His eyes glazed as he stared ahead of him, hardly aware of the elevator moving up, up, up… The doors opened and while walking to his room, Bruce stopped at the fire burning inside the hearth of his grand living room. He saw no one on the couch right away but as he approached, he found Sarah laying on a blanket she had spread out in front of the fireplace. She lay on her side and had her head propped on her hand.

He cleared his throat and she tilted her head back to look at him. She didn't jump or seem nervous to see him; it was almost as if she was expecting him. Nevertheless, there was a tentative, awkward feeling between them. They had almost shared a kiss…

"I couldn't sleep," Sarah said weakly.

"I can see that," Bruce walked around the couch and closer to the fireplace. "I sometimes have trouble sleeping myself."

"I've seen that too."

He looked over at her, no emotion on his face, but Sarah still cast her eyes down.

Bruce waited for a few seconds, a few more, then finally nodded his head. "Well, I'll leave you alone."

He turned and almost made it past the couch again, but to his surprise and to hers, Sarah stopped him.

"Wait," she said. "I mean, since we're both insomniacs tonight…"

He turned and looked back at her. Sarah was sitting up, the firelight casting a strange glow on her face. The same exquisite light that once illuminated her the first night he met her appeared once more. But her beauty had become tragic, broken, and untouchable… he felt a sharp pain in his chest just then, and had to shake it off quickly.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, smiling.

"Unless it's a glass of warm milk, then no, I don't want anything."

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Sorry." He took a seat on the couch. "You know, I always seem to forget how… spirited you are."

"You shouldn't." She drew her knees to her chest and ducked her head to hide her frown. "I think you should be the one person who should know me the best by now. Considering the situation."

Bruce stared into her eyes. They glittered like gold inside a metal melting furnace. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Sarah," he started, "about tonight… I'm sorry. I came to you and offered you my complete trust and honesty. And I betrayed you. I'm really, truly sorry. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I promise you."

She shouldn't have felt that slight twinge of disappoint. But she couldn't deny the fact that she liked having a man desire her. Someone besides Jareth.

Clark could never return the feelings she once had for him, but Bruce was more than willing to cross that line with her with one word. But it had to come from her.

Suddenly, she felt a brush against her mind. She felt her eyes grow heavy as the air around her became thick and heavy. A voice in her head spoke so smoothly and velvety, in tones she knew so well.

"_You would trust him over me?"_

She shook her head slightly, not wanting to cause too much of a distraction. But Bruce didn't seem to notice anything; not even the change in temperature. Jareth spoke again. But his silky voice was not mocking, it was sounded more like… a plea.

"_Do not trust to hope…"_

Bruce looked up at her and smiled slightly. "I'm really not always so... pretentious."

"_Liar…"_

She laughed. At what exactly, she couldn't tell. It could have been her defiance of Jareth or at Bruce's candor. The only thing that seemed to matter was that Bruce's smile widened even further.

* * *

Sarah lay stretched out on the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket, and struggling to keep her eyes open. She wasn't afraid to fall asleep for fear of another dream, as long as Bruce was here with her. They had talked for hours and their conversation was finally dying down in a slurred murmur of words and silly laughs. Sarah was mentally exhausted. It was an effort to focus on Bruce, but somehow she managed to contain Jareth's voice at the back of her mind.

Bruce poked at the fire again to keep the flame going for just a few minutes more. But it was already 5 AM. Both couldn't deny the luxury of sleep anymore.

"You're sure you won't move from the couch?" Bruce asked her.

"I know why you sleep out here sometimes now. It's just too comfy." She bit her lip, trying to hide a smirk. "You're not sleeping on the floor, are you?"

"I don't mind." He lay on his back and rested his hands behind his head. He looked over at her and watched as her eyes slowly melted down. "You're not uncomfortable?"

Sarah opened her eyes again. It looked as if a veil was lifting upward. Her lips parted as they looked each other for a moment too long. "No…"

Bruce smiled, turned over, and finally shut his eyes. "Good morning, Sarah."

Sarah chuckled under her breath and sank deeper into the couch. She was well aware of the fact that Bruce cared about her greatly and he was struggling with his emotions just as much as she was. He wasn't used to this. She knew he was accustomed to having the upper-hand in this sort of situation, if that was what one wanted to call it sometimes. And she knew he was definitely not one on insisting on sleeping on the floor when there was a beautiful woman in the same room.

But still... it unnerved her; the sound of her name on his voice, the way it rolled off his tongue and smoothed the air. She instinctively knew she shouldn't fall for a man like Bruce. She would just be asking for trouble and the real possibility that she could have her heart broken again. But the temptation was becoming stronger and stronger… yet, it was Bruce's safety that weighed heavily on her mind more than anything else. What would Jareth do to him?

She didn't want to think about it. She had come to care too much for Bruce as a person to think about that. But as the days slipped by, she began to crave Bruce's company more and more. Up until now, she tried to avoid him and her temptations as best she could. But the idea of exclusively dating Bruce was becoming more and more appealing. Perhaps by completely accepting her isolation here and take Bruce as a companion would greatly distract her from Jareth. Or it could make things much worse. She was straddling a shaky fence, to say the least.

But without pause, her mind began to wander. She began to think of memories that she could have… she could actually see herself having a life with Bruce. Ice skating in the city center under the Christmas tree, sitting by the pool with him during the summers, taking long walks in the parks, attend glamorous parties and receive fabulous gifts for her birthday and anniversaries, her breakfast brought to her in bed whenever she wished, front row seating at all of the city's celebrated theater performances – not to mention any job she ever wanted. Dinner on the river cruise ships, eat and drink only the finest foods, dress in only couture and the top designers, vacation in five-star resorts in exotic locations most people save a lifetime for. She would live in a castle, indulge herself in luxury, be well-taken care of, would never have another care in the world - yet be forever grateful for all that she had.

But she would never have love.

She would always pine for someone else despite their complicated relationship. As much as she would try and tell herself that she could learn to love Bruce, she didn't want to learn. The love should have already been there… and it wasn't. She could never bring herself to take what was before her. Everything that she could have with Bruce floated before her as if they were trapped in crystal spheres and disappeared when she shut her eyes closed.


	18. The Sins of Salome

The pooling, churning, undulating mass of formless goblins began to congregate around their King as night in the Underground began to fall.

He sat in his throne as still as marble, as cold as the merciless winds that blew outside.

They swam around his throne and could read into him as easily as piercing through skin. Their King was a tortured soul, a mind and heart in agony. Wounded and broken within, but radiating a hardened exterior to mask his pain. No one had given him compassion, and as a result his heart had become dark and angry. Living a life in isolation, hidden in the shadows, and untouched by the warmth of another. But they all knew that the Goblin King secretly dreamed of beauty and a heaven, while living in a perpetual hell.

They all knew that what he really wanted was Sarah to learn to love the monster behind the mask. He longed to be loved for who he truly was – a Goblin King. Should he plead with Sarah to save him from his solitude? He already had, many times. And he was becoming more and more convinced that she could not love him for who he truly was. He was becoming desperate to be freed from his lonely existence, and becoming closer to doing anything to make his inner pain leave…

The Goblin King reflected the two warring personalities that dwell within him -- light and darkness. They all knew that he was secretly crying for redemption. They accepted this. They reveled in his despair and became a part of it. It was in their nature to wallow in darkness and knew it was only right for their King to do so as well.

It was the morning of opening night of 'Salome', and Sarah was fully aware of this when she woke up several hours later on the couch. The fire that raged the night before in the hearth was now nothing but ashes. She looked over and wasn't surprised to see that Bruce was already gone. She heard Alfred in the kitchen and forced herself to rise, looking out over the skyline of Gotham as she made her way to the kitchen where Alfred was already preparing her breakfast.

"Thank you, Alfred," she murmured.

"Oh," his head shot up, startled by her presence. "Good morning, miss. I hope I didn't wake you. I wasn't going to take this until you were awake."

Sarah pulled out a chair and settled in for breakfast at the marble counter of the kitchen. It was times like this she missed a breakfast of cereal in chipped bowls with the girls she once lived with. Eating a gourmet meal prepared by a butler seemed so uncomfortable to her at times.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, master Bruce," Alfred responded cheerfully.

"Morning, Sarah."

"Morning," she mumbled without looking up.

Bruce poured himself a cup of coffee. "Did you sleep okay?"

Sarah perhaps had two hours of sleep in the past two days, and she didn't see herself resting on opening day. She secretly envied Bruce at his ability to stay so chipper with so little sleep. She kept her eyes on her plate and picked at her food with her fork. "Fine." She kept her voice level, but her she felt her face becoming red.

"Listen," Bruce came to her side as Alfred left the kitchen momentarily. "I was wondering, if you have no objection… would you mind if I went to see you perform tonight?"

Sarah finally looked up, her eyes wide. "No, not at all." She looked back down at her food. "Or maybe…" she tried to be as civil as she could. "You don't have to sit in the front row is all."

He stared at her, unblinking; and then took a sip of his coffee before asking, "It's not forbidden?"

"Don't push it," she snapped.

"Sorry. Enjoy your breakfast. And get some rest." With that, he left the kitchen; leaving behind the echo of his facetious apology.

Sarah made sure he left the room before she hid a smile behind her hand.

* * *

It was nearly time to leave for the theater; and Sarah had all of her things packed and ready for tonight. Alfred had carried most of her small bags to the front elevator, but before Sarah turned the corner she spotted Bruce standing in front of the window. His frown seemed sealed on his face, his gray eyes unseeing the city skyline.

She suddenly remembered the image of a boy standing in an alley… outside of a theater. She realized then that Bruce was making a huge sacrifice for her by going to the last place he ever wanted to be.

She stopped Alfred. "I'll be right there," she said quietly. Alfred only nodded and continued around the corner.

She took a deep breath before she began to walk toward Bruce. He still frozen, standing with his back to her even though he knew she was just behind him.

"Bruce," Sarah said, moving closer, shuddering at the hollow sound of her heels against the marble floor.

He finally turned and regarded her with gentle eyes, his features sad, but not angry. Sarah stopped when he tried to smile at her.

"Are you nervous?" he asked her.

She gave a crooked smile. "Never."

"Liar."

Sarah ducked her head and opened her mouth to speak. Instead, she took Bruce's hand in her own.

"I…" she tried again. She looked up again, and found she only wanted to comfort someone in their uneasy pain. "Alfred told me. About your parents."

Bruce looked down at their hands for a long time. He immediately understood why she took his hand. It was understood he would go alone and sit alone. By reputation, it would start a hurricane of gossip. By now, everyone knew that Sarah was seeing him exclusively. That's what he wanted everyone to believe anyway. But it was more than this. It would take a tremendous amount of effort to sit alone in a theater full of people. His mind could easily go back to that night when his world came crashing down. That's why he brought Shana with him that first night he saw Sarah. A distraction always came in handy.

Bruce's voice was calm, quiet, and full of shadows. "I expected he would sooner or later."

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't say a word. But his breathing became harsher and his hand suddenly gripped Sarah's like a vice. Startled, Sarah gasped and moved back, but he would not allow her to go far. She had seen something like this before. Many plays she had watched depicted an angry, tortured soul on the brink of an uncontrollable rage. She could feel his arms begin to shake as her hand became numb from his tight grasp. She could only think of one thing to do to calm him.

"Bruce," she whispered as softly as she could. "Bruce, look at me. You don't have to go."

He met her eyes, and she held his gaze. Nothing was spoken between them as Sarah slowly, softly reached a hand to his cheek; keeping it there until Bruce was able to release her hand. He was reluctant to, but he finally took a step back and took a deep breath.

"It was a long time ago," he said, trying to sound indifferent, trying to shake the repressed anger that was threatening to overflow. He kept walking back, keeping his distance from Sarah; but looked into her eyes one last time. "I'll be in box eight." He then turned on his heel and walked away from her.

Sarah inhaled a deep, shaky breath as she walked him walk away. After all these years, he had never gotten over his parent's death; she knew that now. He was still so angry… hiding all of it behind a mask so the world wouldn't know. Pity filled her heart when she knew there was nothing she could ever do about a wound that still festered so deep within him.

* * *

Circulating on the stairway were the wealthy, the refined, the fashionable of Gotham City. The general manner of the people was very light and informal. The women were beautifully gowned as if it were the Paris Grand Opera of the time. Crowds were moving about in the galleries, while others circulated upon the Grand Staircase. It was a luxurious scene of gaiety and laughter.

In the auditorium, the curtain was down and people were filing in from both side entrances. The aisles were heaving with people, not only with those seeking their seats, but also with groups. All were laughing and talking for the atmosphere was carefree and unceremonious. Many were standing or lounging against the seats, gossiping with acquaintances a few seats distant under the blazing light of the chandelier. Soon, the musicians began to fill in and take their places in the orchestra pit. But there was still that buzz of life and fluttering of motion throughout as the audience was slowly seated.

The scene of the gentry bustling into the theater was that of light-hearted excitement, backstage, however, it was utter chaos. Nearly sixty stage hands were moving about putting the last large pieces of Herod's palace together. There were carpenters, florists, drapers, curtain hangers, firemen, call-boys, several actors in costume, and property men. In the rear of the stage was a corridor leading to the numerous dressing rooms with actors and extras hurrying back and forth preparing for opening night.

Sarah was in one of them, dressing for the part of Salome. Rich satins and flowing chiffons graced her body; while gold jewelry and a host of gems dripped from her head and fingers. She was alone – withdrawing from herself to become another person. A person of terrible obsession and cruelty.

She remained silent as she put the finishing touches on her costume. In her melancholy state, she almost looked like a character study of a wistful, sad-eyed creature, who was dressing listlessly because she had nearly given up hope. Several tears threatened to roll down her cheeks, though she strove bravely to keep them back. She shook her head and drew in a quick breath, trying to keep her composure.

Suddenly, she started when she heard a sound just behind her. She whipped around expecting to see a shadow pass by. But there was nothing. She remained still and strained her ears to hear anything else. Only the murmur and heavy footsteps of the actors and stagehands was heard. But that feeling of anxiety and oppression began to fill the room. And then a knock at her door followed by Alexandra's voice broke the eerie sensation. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and sighed at her stunning reflection. She was ready…

The auditorium buzzed with excitement until the lights began to dim, and the audience was instantly hushed.

The stage took shape under gold and silver lights. Bruce sat in his box by himself, but was another member of a fixed audience of hundreds, the mass of people becoming quiet, hushed in anticipation. He could feel the eager anxiety in the air around him as if it was a tangible thing he could touch, hold in his hand. Years of practice allowed him to remain calm, his proud exterior showing no sign of emotion. Inside, however, his heart was pounding at the mere thought of her…

The play began and wore on. Sarah became Salome and gave indifferent glances when men lusted after her, even died for her. She suffered the constant looks of men, even her own stepfather. Yet strangely enough, it was the wild hermit, Iokannan, who refused to look upon her. He was the opposite of everything that she had known within the palace walls – a wild and dangerous prophet who was untouchable and rejected the advances of women. And Salome wanted him. She wanted this creature that was so foreign and forbidden to her. But when the prophet refused to look upon her, her lust became a deadly obsession…

The stage was set for Herod's throne room, complete with flowing drapes, exotic rugs, and mosaic tiles soaking color down the walls. Marble columns opened the stage to cathedral heights. A gong in the orchestra pit sounded, followed by the swell of drums, violins, flutes and bells.

Atop a low staircase, sapphire curtains rustled and then parted to reveal Salome. The audience drew in a breath and sighed as one at the sight of her.

Bruce's heart sped up as she walked down the stairs with all the grace and sensuality of a queen. She was bejeweled, transformed into a luxurious work of art, even her flesh became like a luminous pearl. Silver and gold bells dangled from bracelets, anklets, and her hips; haunting the audience. She was a vision of passion and sensuality covered in chiffon veils. As she moved, the light caused the fabric to glisten between blood wine and crimson rose.

She met Herod's gaze. Salome grinned seductively in his direction, but lost sight of him in a whirl of blood red as she spun round and round, the veils billowing around her and hiding him from sight. With a nimble flick of her wrist, she wrapped the veils around herself, obscuring her body except for her kohl-rimmed eyes; glittering emeralds that pierced through his lustful mask.

The veils clung to her skin, and her eyes dared him to react as she swayed gently to the music. She slowly began to unwrap herself, and swayed her hips and curved her torso in time to the drums and to the cry of the violins. The ornate beading on her attire caught the light and reflected it back in a myriad of starbursts. The rushing of blood in her ears drowned the music out. To be an object of such desire was to be in a position of power, of dominance, and the awareness of her newfound strength thrummed in her veins.

She stopped in front of Herod, and smiled at him, a knowing smile that both acknowledged and taunted. Her hips and chest drew circles and figure eights in the air. She slowly brought her arms back down, a triumphant smile on her face, and twisted the veil around herself. With another quick flick, she sent one veil after another floating into the air away from her.

Bruce sighed deeply at the sight of Salome and leaned forward watching her hungrily.

He could hear the appreciative murmurs of the crowd around him as she slowly undulated her body to the music. Her bare arms snaked out, imploringly, and her hands and fingers fluttered through the air like soft waves of the ocean. She drew them back towards her body, drawing Herod's eyes with them.

The music was beginning to build to a crescendo; it was almost time to end it. And when she looked up to burn King Herod with her eyes, she saw Jareth standing in the shadows behind the King's throne. She froze, no longer hearing the rich and soulful music through which her body channeled the seduction and demise of one who had refused her. For a moment, she was ashamed, humiliated; but it was gone as quickly as a candle that had been snuffed out. She continued her dance and brought forth all the beautiful and terrible feminine power she had within her. Without realizing, her diamond escaped from the confines of splendid fabric and glowed under the light and in time with her heartbeat.

The choreography she was taught finally began to reveal the deep and multi layered emotion of an all-encompassing love she felt deep in her heart. Its scope spanning the spiritual and ethereal, the raw vulnerability, sweet tenderness, unbearable longing and the blissful elation she had been cursed with.

She looked back and past Herod, staring at the Goblin King watching her with such a burning intensity. His face revealed no emotion, but when she met his eyes, they burned with an inner fire, glowed with the racing of his own heart.

The music abruptly ended and the dance was done. Salome fell to her knees before the king. But it was here Sarah finally saw what Jareth what had been seeing all along.

Sarah was not a part of his world; she was different, unknown to him. And he desperately wanted her to see who he really was and love him for it, just as he loved her. She related to his aloneness. She felt his pain, because she had tasted the bitterness of it herself. She wanted to embrace him and give him the love he yearned for, because she understood.

The audience erupted into a thunderous applause when the lights dimmed. Salome didn't hear a thing but the constant beat of her own heart in her ears as she rushed back to change into her final gown.

* * *

The stage was set for the final scene. The silver moonlight was the only source of light for the stage, and Salome emerged as a luminous beauty eclipsing all the wonders of the night sky. Her slim, silver gown was softened with a distinctive sheer white drape around her lithe body. Adding to the ethereal effect, she wore pearl bracelets on each wrist, connected by double strands of pearls; and her long black hair was accented with a pearl crown. She stood against the moon in all its deadly glory, demanding the head of Iokanaan. It was nearly the end of the play. It was here she would refuse all other gifts from Herod and insist only on the head of Iokanaan on a silver charger. She would hold his head and kiss it, yet still wonder why even in death why Iokanaan still refused to look at her. He saw his God but never saw her. She would hunger for his body, but nothing would quench her. If only he would have looked at her, he would have loved her, and love's mystery was greater than death's.

"Give me the head of Iokanaan!" she screamed at Herod, high in his balcony. "Give me the head of Iokanaan!" Again and again, she demanded… until her voice finally began to falter. She was alone on the stage, yet she sensed another presence behind her, someone who should not have been with her. "Give me… give…" Her eyes wandered over the stage in hesitation, yet she remained perfectly still and let Jareth come to her.

The audience whispered amongst themselves. Something was not right. Salome was supposed to be given the head and kiss the cold lips. After this gruesome act, Salome was supposed to die by order of Herod.

But Salome stayed silent and only heard the echoing footsteps of the Goblin King behind her. She didn't turn to face him.

He moved nearer and she could feel his breath on her neck. Her chest heaved from her heavy breaths, but she didn't try to hide it.

His arms slid around her waist and she gasped as he pulled her against the length of his body. As he pressed an open-mouthed kiss onto the curve of her neck, her head fell back against his shoulder. She lay one hand on his that was resting on her flat stomach and let her other hand enjoy the feel of his leather sleeve. She ran her hand slowly up his forearm, to his bicep which trembled slightly under her touch. Her eyes followed her hand until it reached his shoulder. Their eyes finally met. She reached up and wrapped her hand under his hair and around his bare neck.

His arms tightened around her as he leaned down, watching her eyes close, and claimed Salome's kiss. No longer was she condemned by her sins – their undeclared love for each other was consummated by defying the boundary between life and death. Judgment, obedience, acceptance – they challenged it all with this act of defiance.

Darkness surrounded them, but they paid it no mind. The whispers of the audience became more insistent, but they didn't hear them. They were completely lost in this moment where it was only them and no one else in the span of the very Universe. Lost in the feel, the taste, and the power of a silent, rare love…

* * *

**AN:**

Woohoo! 2 chapters in 2 days. Pretty proud of myself. But of course, this chapter was from the previous storyline. But I just had to keep it in. Thanks to Cassie for the input and the support =)


	19. Prelude Part I

**AN:** This is the first of a three part chapter that I'll be putting up for the next three days. It really took me forever to get everything out of my overworked head out. But I needed to get it out now before I procrastinated any longer. Thanks to Cassie for keeping me going!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth or Batman. I wish I owned Christian Bale though.

* * *

They remained in the center of the dark stage. He still held her with one arm tightly secured against his body. With his free hand he took a hard grip over the back of her neck as he tasted her lower lip. She gasped when he slid his tongue into her mouth gently and urgently, probing the delicate corners of it. He licked her lips and then covered her mouth with his, pressing his teeth against hers, devouring her. She shuddered and fell into him, grabbing hold of the soft leather of his jacket for support. Her entire body was on fire; a fire that melted her soul.

Jareth finally, yet reluctantly pulled away from their kiss. Sarah opened her eyes wide and looked at his face, sober and intent, a mask of desire.

She looked into his eyes, trembling slightly, her hand still wrapped around his slender neck. Her face looked as if it were drugged with contentment, with crushing pleasure.

She blinked, and they stood gazing at each other wordlessly until she stumbled when she lost both her vision and Jareth's warm body pressed against hers. She turned and stared at the stage wide eyed and bewildered. The cast was milling about in utter confusion. The musicians were just as baffled, and the conductor finally signaled for them to stop playing. The curtain dropped before her rapidly. The darkness from the stage grew, becoming blacker and denser until her vision was nearly gone.

So opening night hadn't gone exactly as planned.

A dim stage light was lit and Sarah caught Alexandra's silhouette rushing towards her. She grabbed Sarah's arm and pulled her off the stage. Sarah stumbled behind her, trying to keep up with her director's long strides. Everyone in the wings could hear the audience breaking into a ramble of confusion.

Alexandra finally stopped and whipped around to face Sarah. "Alright," she hissed, "any technical problems are not your fault Sarah; but next time don't just stand on the stage by yourself in the dark."

Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came. She turned her head and looked back at the dark and empty stage. No one had seen what she had done.

"_What __**have**__ I done?"_ she thought desperately. _"What made me do that? I wasn't myself… I wasn't myself…"_

It was the half truth. At that moment in time, she may have been Sarah; but she was also Salome. She was all of the women she had read and absorbed throughout her long, lonely days spent reading in isolation. She was everything a woman was when she craved for her love. She completely became the character that tore away her inhibitions without thinking of the consequences. She became swept up in a moment of supreme passion.

Alexandra marched back onstage when Sarah didn't answer her, and announced the end of the play due to technical difficulties to the audience. However, tickets could unfortunately, not be refunded, since the audience had already seen nearly the entire length of the play.

As people milled and talked about the sudden blackout backstage, Sarah stayed as still and somber as a marble statue. No one had seen what she had done. No one had seen what _they_ had done. She breathed deeply, her chest being the only part of her body that moved. No one thought to question her or even speak to her. They simply took it as their star player had been thrown off, insulted even at a technical problem.

But it was very far from it. She knew exactly what she had let herself do, and she was terrified by the truth of it all. This was the turning point. Everything would change now. Everything.

What if Bruce had somehow seen what happened? How could she possibly explain Jareth to him? She couldn't. She let only let person in on her secret – and Clark had given one in return. Somehow, she got the distinct feeling that whatever secrets Bruce had, they were darker than she could imagine, and she didn't want anything to do with them.

And just as she feared, Bruce sauntered into the lounge after the show with Alexandra by his side. Everyone inside the lounge was caught off guard, especially Sarah. Most in the room became silent and some stood out of respect, perhaps even intimidation. Sarah stood as if she had been intruded upon. Her face flushed and her prim mouth slightly open from alarm, she stood regarding him, but he hardly took notice of her. Her eyes were still clear and direct, but she feared he had let something slip to Alexandra about her current residence. Or even worse, he had somehow seen what she had done.

"Everyone," Bruce began in his confident, dashing manner, "I want to make an announcement." There was an immediate and hushed silence among the hoard of people. Sarah held her breath. "Despite the little mishap that we all experienced, I want to assure you all that the technical problems will be taken care of by tomorrow night. And after tomorrow night's performance, I'll be throwing a party at my penthouse for the Bella Tragedia Company for your job well done."

At his last words, several waiters Bruce had obviously hired for the evening, walked in carrying dozens of bottles of champagne and flutes for everyone inside the room. After the champagne came the trays of cheese, raw oysters, sushi, and strawberries.

Immediately, the room became a clamor of excitement again. The company's opening fiasco was instantly forgotten as a wave of applause and gracious cheers rained down upon their benefactor. A waiter filled a champagne flute for Bruce. He raised his glass in salute to Sarah, his cunning eyes caressing her in a way that brought heat flooding to her cheeks.

People began to drift about the room to congratulate each other and to partake of the food and drink.

And Sarah stood, frozen, her mind had gone blank.

Krista sidled up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Great job, hon."

Sarah gave no response. She stood completely still.

Krista put her hand on Sarah's shoulder and shook her a little. "Hey, you alright?"

Sarah blinked up at her, and tried on a smile. It wobbled a little, but she hoped Krista wouldn't notice. "Yeah," she said. "I'm just... it's a little crowded in here."

"C'mon. We'll get a drink and go find a spot outside to sit. Maybe in one of the dressing rooms," Krista patted her shoulder comfortingly. Together they wound their way through the crowds around the room, but just before they made it out the door, someone else grabbed Sarah's arm.

Sarah flinched and expected Bruce to be there ready to give her a sign that it was time to leave. She didn't expect to see Alexandra.

"I need you to come with me," Alexandra told Sarah. "Alone." Her director gave Krista a shrewd stare and reluctantly, Krista backed away.

Still holding Sarah's arm, Alexandra began to drag her away. Sarah whipped her head around, looking for Bruce. She didn't like this. Her diamond felt ice cold against her chest – it was never cold. Her intuition began to scream at her not to go with Alexandra, to stay here among people, to stay where Bruce was. But she couldn't find him anywhere, and soon, they were walking quickly down the long hallways until they finally stopped in front of Alexandra's office.

"Alex, what…"

"Quiet," Alexandra snapped while scanning Sarah up and down.

Sarah silently observed her theater director. To other people, Alexandra may have seemed slightly more tense than usual and would have attributed it to the way opening night went. In Alexandra's defense, it wasn't exactly what a director would have wanted her production to go.

But Sarah saw fear in Alexandra's eyes. She saw the fear a person would reveal after threats of the most heinous kind. Sarah saw a coward in what used to be a fiercely strong person in Sarah's eyes. Her crystal grew heavy on her neck and seemed to grow even colder as she mentally built a wall between herself and Alexandra. Her director would never be the same person to Sarah now.

"Be on your best behavior, Sarah."

Sarah stared at her, accusingly.

Alexandra shifted her eyes just slightly. But Sarah could now hear the pounding of Alexandra's heart, the tremors just beneath the surface of her skin.

"Put on your acting face if you must," Alexandra sighed, "but please, just… be pleasant."

Without a word, and without much of a choice, Sarah did not respond and turned her back on Alexandra. Sarah turned the knob and entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

Sarah looked around and found this was the same room she once sat with Bruce in; a long time ago it seemed. But instead of Bruce, it was a man older, though not by much, sitting on the settee. The very same man who sat next to her the day she visited the Japanese Garden…

She suddenly regretted her decision, and hated Alexandra for putting her in this mess.

The man smiled at her amiably. And if Sarah couldn't read people so well, she would have thought him handsome. But there was a darkness to him. A darkness that was different from Jareth or even Bruce. His was not a complicated or conflicted shadow that lingered with him, it just simply was there, and he accepted the immorality that came with it.

"Miss Sarah Williams," he said in languid, yet not so graceful tones. "The pleasure is all mine. Please, have a seat. My name is Salvatore Maroni."

Sarah sat on the edge of the chair that was the furthest away from him. "I know who you are, Mr. Maroni."

"Do you?"

Sarah spoke evenly, with her hands demurely folded on her lap. "We met before, in the Japanese Garden."

"That's right," Sal smiled in a superficial sort of way. "We did. Beautiful and smart, a rare combination these days."

"You'd be surprised, Mr. Maroni."

Sal laughed this time, but cynically. He wasn't amused that his compliment had been brushed aside. "I want to be completely direct with you, miss Williams," he said. "It was me who sent you the jewelry."

"_You_ did?" Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"It was my understanding that you had made an agreement with Alexandra after my offer."

"Offer?" Sarah was completely baffled. She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Let me explain something to you, miss Williams. In this town, there's power and then there's money. The two go had in hand, you have to have both to survive here. And I'm offering you a chance of security. You'd be taken care of financially and I'd make sure that no one could touch you… except me."

The enormity of his 'offer' hit Sarah like a ton of bricks. She did not see this coming. "Mr. Maroni, I'm not a…"

"I didn't say you were one," he cut her off with his sharp voice. "But if you want to make it big, if you want recognition, influence, wealth; then I can give all that to you."

Sarah's own voice became darker, as the weight of her crystal felt like it was bearing her neck down. "But I have to give you my dignity in return."

"Don't make it seem like this is beneath you, like _I'm_ beneath you," he sneered. "I'm giving you only one chance, and believe me I can give you a lot more than Mr. Wayne can. A lot more."

"Mr. Wayne?" She sat up straighter. "Mr. Wayne and I are not together."

"Funny," he smiled again, yet there was still no kindness in it. "I heard it differently."

Sarah began to feel dizzy, and the room began to spin. But she could not allow herself to faint. She only wanted this night to be over and done with. Her entire body trembled with the amount of emotions she had felt in the past few hours. Passion, separation, uncertainty, anger, betrayal, lust, love…

"Well, I can assure you that we are not together," even her voice trembled. "What you heard is simply idle gossip."

"Good," Sal nodded, though visibly not convinced. "There's nothing wrong with being a female companion. You accompany me on business trips, dine in nice restaurants, control your own money, and sometimes give your own advice to company affairs."

Sarah didn't even want to think about what 'business trips' and 'company affairs' were to someone like him.

Sarah looked down at her hands. She felt unsteady and nauseous. It took everything in her to speak again. "Everything you just proposed… Alexandra had agreed to all of this?"

"She did."

She rose from the chair, using the armrests to support her. She didn't trust her own body. "Mr. Maroni, thank you for your offer. But I need some time to think about it."

"_Or no time at all,"_ she thought. _"I have to find a way out of this disaster…"_

"Don't take too long, Miss Williams," Sal too rose from his chair. "I'm a generous man, but not a very patient one." He took her hand and held it to his lips. He stared at her through sick and treacherous eyes. "Here's to making the right choice."

His lips on her hand felt like worms crawling on her skin.

* * *

Sarah was going to be sick. She didn't have a feeling she was going to be, she wasn't making herself sick; she knew for a fact she was going to lose everything she had eaten that day as soon as she got home…

Sarah threw her head back. _"Where am I going? I'm not going home. Bruce's penthouse is __**not **__my home."_

The one and only place that was her home was where her father, Toby, and even her step-mother resided.

Regardless of how she felt, she knew she needed to tell Bruce about Maroni. She needed to tell him about the jewelry, the offer, and most especially because Bruce went behind her back and announced they were a couple – to Alexandra no less.

Sarah leaned forward in her seat. "Alfred, do you know if Bruce will be around tonight? I need to speak with him."

"I would assume so, miss. But you know Mr. Wayne, anything can change at the last minute."

Sarah slumped back. "Yeah, I know that," she grumbled.

Alfred parked the car in the underground garage and escorted Sarah up to the penthouse, where she took her usual place in the living room overlooking the night-filled city and the Gotham River, and settled in to read from the many books Alfred brought her.

This was routine for her now. But she was seething inside with the normalcy and the boredom of doing the same thing every day while trapped in here.

Alfred carried in the normal tray of dinner for her. "I just received a call from Mr. Wayne," he announced. "As it is, he won't be returning until tomorrow night. He has business to take care of in Metropolis."

"_Of course,"_ she thought. Her restlessness was beginning to boil over. "He certainly seems to go to Metropolis a lot, doesn't he?"

Alfred merely smiled. "Well, in any case, he'll be back before the party tomorrow."

Sarah clutched the edge of her book until the pages and the binding began to crease. She was going to spend another night here… another nightmare perhaps, or a visit from Jareth. She didn't think she could handle that and still remain sane. How could Jareth understand the mess with Sal Maroni? He would cruelly reprimand her for staying here when she should have heeded his advice and left.

She hated Jareth for being Jareth. She hated herself for staying. She hated Alexandra. And she hated Bruce for locking her in here, she hated the arrogance that was so like Jareth's, she hated his presumptions, she hated being attracted to him, and she hated him because she needed him here with her now more than ever.

* * *

Yet it was an uneventful night. And then came another night of acting, another night of becoming someone else; of giving the gift of transcendence. 'Salome' had gone off without a hitch this time. Sarah was half-expecting Jareth to be behind Herod's throne again and prepared herself for another kiss under the spell of a dark, empty stage. But it never came. And Sarah felt a twinge of disappoint – much to her chagrin.

Now came the worst part of her day – the party. She hadn't seen Bruce since last night when he announced there was to be a party celebrating 'Salome'. As if he needed another reason to drink and cavort with people he claimed to hate.

She brushed her hair with almost violent motions. The last thing she wanted to do right now was get dressed in a garish dress that she couldn't even pick out for herself. Alfred had to go and pick up a dress she had 'ordered' over the phone. All she had to do was tell Alfred her measurements and he was to pick up anything that was available in any swanky boutique in town. She couldn't even look at or try on any dress she thought looked brilliant in a window.

She finally threw her brush down, like she used to when she was fifteen years old.

"_I hate this!"_

She stood from the vanity and began to pace the room back and forth.

"_I hate being locked up in here! I'm sick of this, sick and tired!"_

Without thinking, she picked up one of her pillows and threw it across the room.

"_I'm not allowed to do anything, or say anything!"_

She hit the wall. Hard.

"_I can't do anything!"_

She threw her arm across her nightstand and knocked her piles of books to the ground.

"_Nothing!"_

She looked at the damage she had done, which was really nothing, but to someone who was usually so orderly and structured when it came to personal space, it was a mess. She took several deep breaths before she calmed herself and trudged into the bathroom. She would have clean it up later, but right now, she felt a shower would help calm her nerves.

Of course, a shower didn't help. It only made her nerves worse. Now she had to worry about her hair, makeup, the jewelry she would wear – if she had even brought any that would be appropriate.

Sarah dried her hair and tied the bathrobe around her, tightening the cord with more force than usual. She stepped out of her bathroom, and immediately froze in her tracks. A cold chill went straight into the center of her body and felt the hair stand on end at the back of her neck and arms. She entered her room cautiously not knowing what to expect.

At first the room looked quite normal to her, but then she spotted the box on the bed and the large cream-colored envelope on top of it.

Sarah approached the bed as if a snake lay sleeping there. She slowly picked up the envelope with her name written on it. She carefully eased out the card inside and read the note with rising alarm: _For tonight_.

Tonight was the night of the party. Bruce wanted her to be his date. Her breath caught in her throat as the card slipped from her trembling fingers. She turned away and started to pace the room with clenched fists. He had the nerve, the audacity to automatically assume that she would be his date. Like she should learn to like it from now on!

She put the card down and turned to the box. With trembling hands she opened it. It contained a beautiful evening dress in black georgette silk. She could see at once that it was exquisitely cut and had no extra decorations. But she gasped aloud when she lifted the dress out of the box… and abruptly slipped from her fingers when she recognized it.

It was the black Dior dress she had seen on display in Metropolis so long ago…

This was from Jareth.

She remembered him standing behind her, reflected in the window, dressed to complement the gown before her. The gown, which until now, had been a distant memory.

She didn't want to touch it, see it even. Was this some kind of cruel joke he was playing with her? Why would he do this to her now? Was it to tell her that she belonged to no one but him?

"_I belong to no one!"_

Sarah grabbed the box and flung it away from her to the other side of the room. The box hit the wall and the black train of the dress slipped out and draped itself onto the floor.

She began pacing the room again and cast nervous glances over at the gown. She finally sat down in a plush chair and drew up her legs under her, hugging them as if seeking comfort from somewhere. She sat there unmoving for several minutes thinking of what to do. Finally, Sarah got up and lifted the dress out of the box and held it out in front of her to examine it. It was more beautiful and perfect than she remembered. She slipped it out and pressed it against her trembling body. Despite the weight of it, the skirt seemed to sway delicately at every soft movement. She finally undressed and hesitantly put the gown on, slipping the dress over her head and letting it fall down over her body. It felt like a caress. It could have been made for her, maybe it was. When she moved and the heavy silk moved with her, the outline and roundness of her breasts became just barely and teasingly visible.

Sarah stared into the full-length mirror. She looked past her image and past the surface of the glass. She was tempting fate, playing a dangerous game; but she was waiting for something to happen. Something to prove that the King was here. So she could be prepared for anything tonight. The mirror began to waver like water…

She didn't hear Alfred walk in the room and stop in the doorway. "Oh, miss!" he exclaimed proudly. "You look just lovely. What a beautiful gown!"

Sarah held her stomach, sucked in a breath at being so startled, and whipped around. She blushed red, hoping that Alfred didn't see anything. She moved fluttering hands to her damp hair. "Thank you. I-I just don't know what to do with my hair…" She laughed at the absurdity, the childishness of her remark.

But it seemed to fool Alfred.

"I think it looks lovely straight. Here," he walked over to the nightstand and took Sarah's brush. "Allow me. I know it can be hard reaching the back."

Sarah sat with care in front of the full-length mirror before Alfred began brushing her hair with the utmost precision and equal affection. She could have been the Queen of Babylon for all he cared; he had been treating her as such since she first arrived.

Alfred was nearly finished brushing out her hair, there was nothing much to be done with it, and Sarah had no desire to do anything showy. Her stomach began to coil in dread when she thought of the impending party, she was sure Jareth was going to be there among the partygoers. And with Bruce there… she began to fear for his safety, for everyone's safety; because there was no telling what an obsessed Goblin King might do.

Alfred looked at the breathtakingly lovely young woman before him with compassion. He could tell that she was more than a little nervous - even frightened. He couldn't blame her.

"Is everything all right, miss?"

Sarah looked up and saw a truly honest, sometimes to a fault, compassionate, and loyal man standing in front of her. He had become the closest person for Sarah since she left home. "I'm so nervous, Alfred. I… I don't want to play a role that's not meant for me."

Alfred sat in a chair next to her. "What do you mean?"

She looked him squarely in the eye, because she knew he trusted her. "I appreciate everything Bruce has done for me, I truly do. But he's turning me into something I'm not. Just by keeping me here. Do you understand?"

He frowned, then nodded slightly. "I do, miss. I understand."

Her heart beat faster. "You do… I knew you did." She gave a ghost of a smile. "I'm not like these people, Alfred. I'm different…" She dropped her head. "You have no idea… how different I am."

Alfred leaned over and cupped Sarah's chin to raise it back up. "I want to tell you something. Which may not make any sense, but I should say it. Just so that one day you might remember it." He dropped his hand and they looked at each other, like a father and daughter would. "At a certain point in your life, probably when too much of it has gone by, you will open your eyes and see yourself for who you are. Especially for everything that made you so different from all the awful normals and you will say to yourself, but I _am_ this person. And in that statement, there will be a kind of love."

Sarah was close to tears. "I'm still so afraid."

"We all are."

* * *

**AAN: **The last few lines are from 'Phoebe in Wonderland'. Excellent movie if you haven't seen it already. Part 2 is up tomorrow!


	20. The Djinn

Sarah finally had the courage to leave the room and make her way down to the long, dimly lit corridor that would take her to the party. And of course, it had already started by the time she got there.

The entire penthouse had been changed into a scene from '1001 Arabian Nights'. It all looked like a luxurious Moroccan palace: opulent silk and velvet cushions were scattered upon luxurious rich silk covered sofas, brass tray tables and authentic hand painted, low wood tables, traditional glass colored lanterns; rich gold embroidered drapes were hung against the walls to recreate the splendor of the ancient palaces. There was an almost deafening pulsation of Middle Eastern music playing, and she could even smell sweet hookah tobacco that was being enjoyed by several people on the patio.

It was so like Herod's palace that she felt dizzy with fear and excitement for a moment. Thankfully, no one wore a mask. There were no elaborate costumes or headdresses or even hairdos. Everyone was dressed in either their best suit and tie or a formal evening gown. The crowd was so delightfully… normal. And she thanked whatever god was up there that Alexandra wasn't going to be here tonight. She didn't think she could handle a confrontation well with her tonight; Sarah was still very much seething inside.

She hoped that she could simply slip inside and become lost in the general din of the evening. But she began to notice that people were staring at her and she felt a slight shiver of discomfort. When she looked around once more she could feel people appraising her and trying to make eye contact with her; she was after all, the star of the play. But she only smiled shyly and nodded to them all. In spite of the number of people and all the brightly colored lights - Sarah felt cold and shivered slightly.

Almost immediately, she felt a hand on her shoulder and without turning her head to look, knew it was Bruce.

"Sarah," he kissed her cheek, "wonderful job on opening night." He leaned closer so that only she would hear him. "You look fantastic," he murmured, his breath grazing her cheek before placing a soft kiss. To anyone in the crowd it would have looked like a friendly greeting, but if someone was watching very carefully, it was something else entirely.

"Thank you," Sarah responded, keeping her eyes downcast. She felt as cold as ice. Surely he could sense it.

He raised his voice slightly so as to look like they were making conversation. "Where did you get this gown? It's beautiful!"

She began to smooth out the delicate fabric nervously. "It was a gift."

His sincerity, his forcefulness, was immense. It was like being carried on a wave. _"You're too good at this Bruce," _Sarah thought. _"Well, I can be too."_

Bruce took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handed it to Sarah. "Here, this will calm your nerves. Mingle a bit and try and have a good time." He grinned with his steel eyes staring down at her. "This is, after all, your party."

Sarah blinked and stared at Bruce, unmoving. But every nerve in her body wanted to slap his arrogant face. _"You've deceived me too many times, Bruce, all because you want to protect me. I can play this game for only so long…"_

His grin became wider and he winked at her before turning and walking towards a small group of guests.

Sarah glanced down at her champagne and drank it all in one mouthful. A waiter offered her another and she greedily took it.

After a time, Sarah felt heady with the champagne and she walked around the ballroom, unable to stand still by herself anymore. The music was loud and made serious conversation almost impossible, a fact that Sarah welcomed since she didn't want to commit herself in any way tonight. Several men tried to engage her in some sort of conversation, but she politely declined each one. She kept herself aloof and walked away when she felt some unfamiliar, hungry, and greedy eyes travel over her bare shoulders and back. Once or twice she caught sight of Bruce making conversation with whoever was at hand, but of course, looked rather bored. She sighed inwardly. Even though he was throwing the party for her, she knew deep down he hated things like this and the people who tried to kiss his feet at every turn. She shivered involuntarily. Something told her that she would be doing the same soon if she still wanted his protection.

She watched Bruce for a few moments and didn't even notice Krista and Bianca walk up to her until Krista wrapped an arm around Sarah's waist.

"Sorry," said Krista after Sarah flinched away from the unexpected touch. "Did we scare you?"

Sarah suppressed a sigh and shook her head. "No, it's alright."

Krista and Bianca wore bright, colorful gowns that matched the vibrance of the décor. Krista donned a deep pink gown with one shoulder while Bianca's turquoise dress perfectly matched her darker skin tone. Sarah was, in fact, one of the only women who wore black tonight.

Was this how Jareth wanted her to be seen, as someone who has been touched by another force stronger than this world? Or was it how she was supposed to see herself? That she was different from the colorful facades of the world she was living in.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?"

"Who?" Sarah pretended not to know who Krista was talking about.

"Bruce Wayne." Krista had lowered her voice to an excited, secretive tone so no one would hear. "Everyone knows, hon."

Sarah's heart dropped into her stomach. She knew exactly what her friend was talking about. They must have seen Sarah's face go white because Bianca leaned closer to her.

"Believe us, Sarah," Bianca said, "we didn't tell a soul. It was rather obvious, however, that you left in a chauffeured car everyday."

"And Alex has really been on edge, lately," Krista hissed. "More so than usual."

Sarah nodded. "I did notice."

"I hope you're prepared for the media scrutiny you're going to be getting soon," Bianca warned.

Sarah shook her head and sighed. "I've had lots of time to think it through, and I think I'll survive. I've gotten through worse." She smiled knowingly at her friends. _"The public eye," _she considered_. "Would I be safe with Bruce after publicly acknowledging we were an item? People would certainly talk…"_

"Where did you get this, anyway?" Krista cast her eyes up and down the black gown. "It's gorgeous!"

"It was a gift," Sarah responded again plainly.

"Hmph." Krista took a sip from her champagne glass. "Nice gift. Wish I were as lucky as you."

"No you don't." She couldn't stop the words coming from her mouth, but Sarah meant them wholeheartedly.

Sebastian, who had only gotten the very small part of The Syrian in the play, finally sidled up to Krista, Bianca, and Sarah. "Well, even though last night was one of the worst shows I've ever done in my life, this is a pretty bitching party." All three women ignored Sebastian and took another sip of their drinks. "Although, I hope this isn't going to be like the time you all threw me a party and then cleaned out my liquor cabinet."

Sarah finished her drink with a wince before saying, "That wasn't a party. That was an intervention."

"I think you need another glass of champagne." Krista took her hand and tried to lead her away from Sebastian.

Then, for a fleeting moment, Sarah thought that she saw Jareth among the throng of people. She stopped, alarmed, and Krista also made an abrupt halt wondering what was wrong.

"_He's here…" _

"Sarah?" Krista shook her friend. "You okay?"

Sarah shook her head. "Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled convincingly. "Too much champagne."

"I'm going to find an empty chair for you, take it easy."

Sarah smiled again as Krista went in search of someplace for them to sit. And as soon as she was gone, Sarah's lips turned into a frown again.

A small stage had been set for live music and the band had finally arrived to take the place of the horridly loud music that was playing on the speakers. The first notes fell over the crowd like drops of water on a hot pan; people suddenly stopped their mindless conversations and stopped to listen. The musicians started to play something melodic and familiar…

"_Silently the senses abandon their defenses… Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor…"_

The music seemed to cast a spell over everyone, it sounded ancient, ethereal, and dark. But there were soft strains to it that called them all to dance. She felt the pull of the music, but was able to resist it. She knew he was here, somewhere, laughing at her, and she wasn't going to have it. Last night she'd given him something that finally melded their worlds together. If that couldn't bring him back fully into her world, she would never know what would. She pushed through the crowd that was moving toward the center of the grand room, eager to be away from the music.

"_Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light - and listen to the music of the night ..."_

"Sarah," a soft voice said, and she turned to find Connor, one of her cast mates. "Would you like to dance?"

"Oh… I'm looking for someone," she said, hoping she didn't hurt his feelings too much.

He smiled, but not unkindly. "Come on, just one dance," he held out his hand.

Sarah looked down at it and sighed inwardly. She set her hand in his. "Just one dance," she said, as he pulled her toward him and swept her onto the dance floor.

His hands were gentle and light on her waist and her hand, and he remained at a respectful distance.

Sarah smiled amiably at Connor then looked over to her right and found Bruce not far still conversing with the same people. He caught her looking at him, and for a second, Sarah lowered her eyes. And when she looked back up, his eyes were still on her. She noticed he was excusing himself from the small crowd gathered around him and began to weave his way toward her.

She tensed slightly and looked away. People had swarmed to the open floor, dancing, laughing, and cavorting all around her. A sudden flash of a memory overcame her. That same feeling of panic; of too many people crowding in around her, suffocating her.

And just like the last time, she felt _his_ presence. She whipped her head to the other side and saw Jareth staring her down, only a few feet away from her. No one else seemed to notice the Goblin King move easily through, but Sarah did as she looked over at Bruce again, and saw him coming closer. But she was caught in Connor's arms. If she tried to move or run away now, it would look terrible, not to mention immature.

She turned back to Jareth unconsciously and pressed herself against Connor. Connor thought it was the crowd getting too rough and held her tighter. No one seemed to notice her in her fright or her panic. She watched Jareth ease through, his face holding no emotion; he wore his mask of indifference.

Sarah gasped as he moved through one person after the other, slowly sauntering over to her like a hunter circling his prey.

Just as he nearly reached her, she looked away and back at Bruce who was just as close to her as Jareth was. Bruce was standing still among the moving crowd. He could see she was upset, scared even. He began to fade into the Bruce Wayne she knew behind closed doors – as much as he would let anyone close to him see. He began to reach for her and take her away from the dance floor, knowing that something was clearly upsetting her.

Sarah reached for his hand too, but found another in its place, grabbing hers.

Her body grew cold as the black, gloved hand pulled her away from Connor and Bruce. She gazed upward, expecting to find the worst. Instead she stared at long, draped sleeves shimmering in gold and cobalt blue; the entire robe was attached with jewels, beads, and coins. She found someone very different from Jareth staring back at her. He was unlike him in appearance, yes, but Sarah could still recognize the hint of the supernatural in this man.

Eyes the color of a clear desert sky were set in a prominently strong, dark face. Sarah would have called him a Bedouin leader from one of Scheherazade's tales. He smiled down at her. He seemed to recognize who she was. "The djinn have come!" He announced proudly, fiercely to the crowd that began to crowd around him.

Shrieks and gasps of thrilled wonder rang throughout the crowd as a host of fire breathers, belly dancers, snake charmers, and more burst into the room. She looked back in front of her, and the man in gold and black robes had disappeared. But the crowd had become a mess of dancers and acrobats and contortionists.

This was by far too familiar to her – she had to find a way out. It might have been the champagne she consumed, or the crowd, or the fire breathers; but she felt flushed, like the air was suddenly stifling hot.

"_No…"_

She clutched her stomach.

"_Oh god, no, don't be sick…"_

The world spun around her. Yet, the world seemed to spin in slow motion. The dancer's veils floated in the air like painted clouds, the glitter from their costumes drifted in the air as they turned in circles, the flames from the fire-breathers turned into raging infernos as she turned…

She felt her heart drop into her stomach, already swimming, as a figure turned to look at her. Shock poured through her, ice in her veins, as she studied him. His hair not only fell over his chest and shoulders, but over his etched cheeks and forehead. The brows were still upswept, but not nearly as much glamour as she was used to seeing. His lips were thin, but still sensual, and his teeth still white and sharp. His clothes were more or less human, from the black coat she'd noted earlier, to the dark burgundy silk shirt that was unbuttoned to show off the pale column of his throat. His pants were utterly normal, but couldn't hide the fact he was still wearing boots. He was more Victorian steampunk than Arabian nights.

And the girls were fawning over him. That was where her heart stopped.

Sarah could see Bianca was itching to run her fingers through his hair. Emily, dressed in sunshine gold, always had a soft spot for theatrics and this was right up her alley. Krista simply stared, slack jawed.

He said nothing, just stood there, watching her with calculating eyes. She was suddenly aware of every inch of skin her dress revealed, the dress she decided to wear knowing it was from him.

Bianca followed his stare and smiled, albeit a bit disappointed. But she still reached out and pulled Sarah over. "This is our Salome." She leaned into Sarah's ear and murmured pointedly, "Mmmm, accent."She pushed Sarah forward and directly in front of the Goblin King.

Sarah felt like she was being offered as a sacrifice to a devil.

He leaned forward and smiled a little when she stiffened. His eyes glittered strangely, and a slight smile played around his lips. "Such a princess deserves a gift."

"No thank you," Sarah said immediately.

"Oh please!" Bianca cried excitedly. She was nearly bouncing up and down. "Show Sarah your trick!"

"No, please," Sarah brushed off Bianca's hand on her arm, never keeping her eyes off of Jareth. "No tricks."

He smiled, baring his white teeth, and waved a gloved hand, regally. A crystal sphere appeared atop his fingertips. Bianca, Krista, and Emily could barely contain their squeals of delight. Sarah watched nervously, silent and still, waiting for the worst.

Bianca swayed forward a little, leaning down to expose a bit more cleavage. "Watch, Sarah…"

"_I don't want to!"_

She would surely make a scene if she started screaming at her friends to run away, at _him_ for even being here, and at Bruce for, well, everything else.

Jareth caught the hunted look in her eye and his lips curled into a feral smile.

Sarah hated that smile – it sent thrilling shivers down her spine against her will.

"Observe," he said as he waved his other hand over the sphere. In it, appeared three people, one man and two women, dressed in flowing gowns and a sharp suit dancing together. They were frozen mid-step in their dance, their arms flowed out gracefully at their sides.

"_Oh lord," _Sarah thought, almost cynically, _"please don't make them dance."_

The image was suddenly lost as the crystal sphere fell from his fingertips and wrapped around his wrist two, three, four times. Jareth was as fluid and graceful with his wrist circles as the dancers were. No one, not even Sarah, could take their eyes off the sphere that rolled around his slender wrist. Finally it stopped – and they all gasped. Except, of course, Sarah. The dancers were still inside but surrounding them was a blizzard of gold glitter – an enchanted snow globe.

All the girls beamed at the sight, but this reaction was nothing to what came afterward. A shower of golden glitter – of a million stars – fell from the ceiling of Bruce's penthouse and unto the entire crowd. Sarah's friends nearly screamed in delight and reveled in the spell of glittering rain that poured all over the partygoers. The men shook it out of their hair like dandruff, but the women marveled at themselves covered in shimmering gold – they took handfuls of it and blew it at each other like powdered snow.

Sarah stood motionless, caught within a storm of light magic – she had become a golden statue of indifference, but beneath that, she was seething.

"Hedonism at its best," she told Jareth flatly, her eyelashes glittering with each blink.

"Ah, but I thought that you mortals rather like all this," he replied with good cheer. He seemed to enjoy this trick.

"Alfred's going to have a hell of a time cleaning this up."

"Oh, tut," he shook his head, "Alfred won't have to lift a finger. It will be taken care of."

"And that won't seem at all odd."

"Why don't you try to enjoy yourself a little?" He leaned in close to her ear and hissed, "this is, after all, _your _party."

Sarah flinched away from Jareth. Those were Bruce's exact words to her.

She looked up and found pools of glass ice staring back at her. Sarah had to turn away from him. She brushed her hand over head to get the damned glitter off of her, and of course, when she looked up again, Jareth was gone.

Sarah shook off as much glitter as she could from her skin and her dress, barely containing a growl as she did so. Her friends had moved on to another so-called magician who wasn't nearly as polished as Jareth, but they were looking to be entertained, like everyone else here.

Sarah tried moving along the walls of the penthouse to get around the mob of people. There was indeed something different about tonight than what she encountered during her time in the Labyrinth. In the ballroom, in the Underground, there had been a certain air of romance, but it was not here now. Here, the mood was more frantic, the energy pulse was stronger, and of course, much more adult.

The musicians began to play a happy, lively piece with their drums, flutes, and violins. The dancers and the acrobats were joined by other dancers that wore similar robes to the man in black and gold. They leapt and spun in the air like the frightful djinn they were personifying. Sarah began to notice with increasing dread that they all wore masks that covered their face, save their dark eyes.

As the music sped up, their dance movements became more abandoned and exhilarating. The belly dancers were playing their finger cymbals for them, louder and faster, as they danced among the crowd. They were blurs of black and gold – black cats and bat spirits that came to crash a party. The music was hurried and pulsing, but then the heavy clarinet began to play, and the tone took a much more soulful, wailing sound – dramatic and intense.

Sarah could hear the longing in the song, the frenzied dancing that was reenacting something lost, something broken…

She could almost hear the words that no one else could.

"_You enjoyed seeing my heart suffering._

_You were listening to my cries as if they were music. While I was burning in the fire of their echo._

_Fire, fire which slowly, slowly melted our love._

_You enjoyed my suffering and preferred cruelty and did not appreciate my love. _

_You referred to my dark sorrowing nights thinking of you, as a game but for me that was part of my precious life…"_

Sarah was suddenly grabbed and pulled forward by the lead dancer. He wrapped his arms around hers and led her into their dance. She had no choice - he was much taller and much stronger than she was. He was such an expert dancer that she felt if she tried to break his hold, it would mean nothing to him and he would have picked up where they left off. They turned in circles and swayed to the pulse of the rhythm, to the heartbreak…

She glared at the eyes staring back at her from beneath the mask. It was not Jareth, no, but they spun and flared with blue flames – magical and terrifying. She stared in horror, realizing that this was a very real djinn that she was dancing with. She had read about the djinn in her storybooks. They were spirits, genies, demons, who tried to influence, even manipulate humans. She tried to struggle in his grasp, but he pressed both his hands to her back, bringing her closer. She flinched and gasped aloud as if burnt with red-hot irons. He entwined his fingers behind her, and she was left with her hands struggling against his. They spun faster and faster, as the music began to reach a crescendo, a crescendo that was never coming. She could see his eyes laughing at her, at her fear of him.

The room spun in black and gold stars. The music was getting louder, her head was swimming, her heart was throbbing, and she wanted to cry out…

* * *

**AN:** The song near the end of this chapter is called Lissa Faker by Oum Kalthoum. If you listen to it on iTunes you're just going to get an overhyped version of it, the original track is really very beautiful. Part 3 up tomorrow!


	21. I Can Make You Love Me

And then everything stood perfectly still. Bruce was by her side, his arm around her waist and daring the djinn (of course he didn't know it was a real djinn) to touch her again with a dangerous glare. Amazingly, the djinn stopped, stared at Bruce for a long moment, and went off to find another victim.

Bruce dipped his head to her ear. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" Sarah said breathlessly. "I just need some air."

"Come on," Bruce grabbed her hand and led her to the balcony.

She looked carefully at him as he made his way through the crowd and to the large open windows that left them access to the long balcony facing the sprawling city. Sarah inhaled the cool air and instantly felt relieved. Away from the crowds, finally out of the penthouse with a man who had broken the spell of a djinn. He had managed to break the hold of a djinn over her.

"_How?" _

Bruce rubbed Sarah's back as she breathed deeply. "I promise no more parties like this for a while," he said.

"It is a little over the top," she sniffed. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and half smiled. "You're covered in glitter." He laughed under his breath as she turned and brushed a coat of glitter off his shoulders. "It doesn't suit you."

His smile widened even further, agreeing with her. He stared at her as she absently brushed tiny shimmers of gold from his suit – they drifted away in the wind – up and around them. His voice changed to a low murmur.

"You look absolutely beautiful."

Sarah really was a sight in her sumptuous black dress and her black hair still covered in a veil of gold. She was Salome again.

Bruce couldn't help himself. He bent his head and lowered his face to hers, intending to kiss her fully on the mouth.

Sarah instinctively snapped away, like she was prepared for this. "Do you really want to do this here?"

Bruce pulled away reluctantly, disappointed. They both knew that that moment would have been perfect – the night air, the energy of the party… it would have been **so** perfect, except that she was still very angry at him. But now was not the time to have it out. She figured that after warding off a djinn of all things, he deserved a break.

Add to the fact that Jareth was still here, somewhere.

She stared evenly at Bruce as he took a lock of black and gold hair and held it up so it could shimmer in the light. He sighed heavily. "Alfred is not going to like cleaning this up."

She opened and closed her eyes slowly, giving a shrewd smile. "I think it'll be okay."

Bruce looked at her, a fondness in him that she had never seen before deepening… accompanied by sadness in his voice. "You really do look beautiful tonight." He meant it.

Sarah smiled again, demurely this time. "Thank you."

He straightened then, and put on the mask of Bruce Wayne again. He crooked his arm to her. "Shall we return to the snake pit?"

Sarah looked at his arm and shook her head. "Not yet. A few more minutes out here and I should be fine."

"Sure," he smiled and touched her elbow, "I'll come back for you in a few minutes."

Sarah nodded and watched him saunter back into the party. She tossed her head in the wind. Bruce was right – it really was like a snake pit in there.

And as Bruce moved further into the party, and further away from her, she could undoubtedly sense _him_ behind her now. She involuntarily drew her shoulders together as if expecting his hand there but when he touched her, he softly traced his gloved fingers down her neck and over her shoulder. She instinctively wanted to turn and look upon him, but she found that she was unable to move and stood frozen, slightly shaking.

Despite the constant talk and sporadic echo of laughter in the penthouse, there was the most palpable of silences between them. She kept her back to him and didn't say a word, only waited for him to speak.

"I forgot to tell you how stunning you look in your new gown."

Sarah found the strength to move and she turned around to face him. She stopped breathing for a moment when she did. He was dressed differently from before, yet exactly the way she remembered him when she first saw the black dress. His midnight black waistcoat glittered under the lights of the chandelier. A black satin shirt with diamond buttons was carelessly open halfway down; it clung to his lithe body. Trousers of the same midnight color and knee high black leather boots completed his ensemble. Even his hair held traces of black night. On his ivory-pale chest the crescent moon pendant shone almost indecently against all this darkness.

Her body suddenly became very warm. No man here in their expensive Italian and designer suits could compare to the Goblin King. Not even Bruce.

"Yes," she sneered, composing herself. "It fits like it was made just for me."

"That's because it was," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Of course."

Sarah brushed past him and moved to the ledge of the balcony. She was about to lean forward and sink against the ledge for support. Until she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck and his arms encircled her slender waist in an iron-grip. He pulled her close to his body, so close that she felt his pendant leaving marks between her shoulder blades, his whole body outlined against hers. She could feel every detail of him, from his hard thighs against hers and his naked breast through his almost unbuttoned shirt against her bare back. He breathed over her bare shoulder; tendrils of his hair brushed her cheek, they felt like silk on her skin.

He put his mouth to her ear. "A princess stands tall."

She didn't trust her legs anymore and leaned against him for support instead as wave after wave of heat washed over her. Before she had time to collect herself and answer he turned her around in his arms and she saw his thin lips, his sensual mouth. The rest of his face was in shadows that didn't reveal the expression of his eyes. She could only see them glimmer at her in the dark.

"And a queen stands above them all," he said proudly. "You know as well as I that you do."

Sarah's jaw clenched. She was so close to the edge of a raging fury, she could scream. Instead, she returned his hard stare and her voice trembled with a cold malice that surprised even her. "What if I told you I could never come to love you no matter what? That I could never come to love someone so different from me, that I know for a fact I would hate you. That I might hate you even now?"

He was silent, looking at her with hooded eyes. Then, his eyebrows drew together in a look of slight exasperation, but also slight amusement. He finally shrugged. "Irrelevant. My feelings for you wouldn't change. As much as I sometimes would want them to."

"_There's a fine line between love and hate, Sarah. Perhaps I did hate you once."_

Sarah felt a chill go through her body. Just like the one she felt when she first heard him say that to her, a long time ago it seemed.

Jareth's eyes gave her a thoughtful look, then continued. "And don't you dare try and tell me that you're different from who I am, from _what_ I am. You are just as cruel and cold-hearted..." His mouth dipped again, his voice lilting in her ear. "You could be a remarkable woman of power."

Sarah finally pushed him away from her. "No. My answer will always be the same – I can't and I won't do it." She back away from him, more and more until she could see him more clearly. She felt like she was looking at a pale, marble statue of moonlight and black night. She felt chills run through her body for the second time; unfortunately it was not from the cold. Why was he still so beautifully radiant even at night?

Sarah shook herself mentally. No. She couldn't. She had been given one opportunity after another to grab power for herself. But she was still the mortal woman who believed in good. Even in a city crawling with shadows like this one… And he was still the Goblin King and a villain. But she knew if she only reached out for a moment, he would take her and love her…

She shook her head and turned away with barely concealed exhaustion. "You knew how it had to end in the Labyrinth. I couldn't change it. I couldn't change the rules… the story…"

"Yes, I did know how it had to end," Jareth replied, coming to her side. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the marble railing, and looked out over Gotham, as if it were his kingdom. "As much as I denied it, I did know."

She quietly absorbed everything Jareth had said, but now there were tears that threatened her eyes. "Why? Out of everyone else…" she glanced at the revelry in the penthouse and at the overly dolled-up women vying for a man's attention. "Why me?"

"You understood my world even better than I," Jareth said, still looking out over the city. You weren't a small girl, you were a young woman with a child's mind. I thought it was perfect; someone who could finally understand me and the life, the duty that was given to me. I thought I could give the child that was in you the idea that you could have a fairy-tale life with me. But that was the story. You had to grow up. You had to refuse me…"

Jareth turned to her, and quick and stealthy as a hunter, he pressed a gloved hand to the small of her back and pulled her towards him. He laughed when Sarah braced herself again under his hold - one arm around her back, the other hand at her waist – and looked at her, his eyes gleaming and his lips parted.

"But that was the story that was written long before you were even born," he murmured. "We make our own story now."

He tipped his head downward, intending to kiss her. "Wait, Jareth," she said, her lips a breath away from his jaw. She felt him take a breath, then another…

"You don't have to love me," she tried halfheartedly. It was so hard to think when he was like this.

His face was sphinx-like, beautifully pale in the moonlight. "Unfortunately, or fortunately, how ever way you put it; _that_ was in the original tale. Consider it a footnote that made its way into the sequel." His mouth came ever closer to hers. "A sequel of our own…"

Sarah fought for words. Anything to keep him from kissing her. She would be lost if she felt his lips on hers again.

"I don't love you," she forced out. The words felt like small pinpricks in her heart.

And Sarah's eyes suddenly widened in alarm as Jareth growled from the back of his throat, snaked an arm further around her waist, and brought her against the full length of his body with a rough jerk, frightening and exciting her at the same time.

Her hands came up to his chest, trying to push herself away, without much avail. She stared upward and found his face twisting into rage, his mouth set in that menacing scowl that froze Sarah's blood.

"I can make you love me," he hissed. His voice had changed into a dark, dangerous snarl.

His mouth finally dove in to devour her, but Sarah was quicker than he was. She twisted her face away in disgust, barely dodging his lips. "No!" She shoved him with all her might and broke away, pushing herself backwards.

"No…" She gritted her teeth and looked him in the eyes, they were flaring as brightly as the djinn's; lit in a horrible way, flaming and feral and gleaming with magic – a boiling, seething magic, whirling around Jareth, who glared at her, his whole body tense with fury.

"You desire him so greatly," Jareth hissed, stalking toward her in a manner that made her turn a little pale. She put up her hands to ward him off, but Jareth grabbed her wrists and held them in his steel grip.

His hold was painful, and Sarah tried to struggle against him. But froze at the stark whiteness of his face, his hair flaring molten silver against the darkness that howled around him like an ice storm.

"You desire a mortal man who has betrayed you from the first!" He roughly turned her away from him. "Then take him!" He violently pushed her from behind, slamming her into something solid. Or rather someone solid.

Sarah gasped aloud and pushed herself away from this strong, impenetrable pillar that would not move. She looked up, and found that she could not move again.

Batman stood in front of her, as frightening and daunting as ever. A demon of the night… He breathed evenly, glaring down at her, but didn't seem to recognize her. She knew right away that this was an illusion of Jareth's so he could make a point.

"Not what you expected is he, Sarah?" he mocked from behind her. "No one and nothing ever is."

She opened and closed her mouth, trying to find something coherent to say. "I… I don't understand." She did, but she didn't believe it.

"Look harder," Jareth obviously didn't buy her words either. "You know it's true."

Sarah gazed hard into Batman's eyes. Underneath the gleaming obsidian of his eyes, there was certainly a touch of gray…

"Enough," she said, inclining her head to Jareth behind her. "You want me to see something that's not true."

"Come, Sarah!" he was past the point of impatience. "You've always known. Yet you continue to doubt yourself."

Sarah flinched hard when Jareth's voice spoke in her ear again. "I have tricked you many times, yes, but I have _never _once lied to you…"

Batman's image faded from sight, his hooded eyes were the last to disappear.

Sarah stared at where Batman had been standing, feeling her entire body flooding with a red hot anger. She was so furious and confused she wouldn't be surprised if steam began to seep out of her skin. She whipped around to face Jareth and bared her teeth at him, barely containing a scream.

Screaming would do no good. But turning her back on him would.

As she walked past, he reached his hand out and grasped hers. Without thinking, Sarah twisted around and clamped her hand over his own wrist. And they both stared at each other at the electric shock that went through the both of them. Jareth's eyes flashed down to his wrist and then back at her again. Sarah dropped her gaze to her hand that grew colder and colder until it burned like ice. She tore her arm away easily and cradled it close to her chest, still stinging from her frozen touch.

Now she was scared. What had she just done? _She_ did that, not Jareth.

"_He would not be looking like that if he did…"_

She stared down at her numb hand, her brain reeling… She finally wrenched herself away and bolted from the balcony, a flying fury of rage.

"SARAH!!!"

Jareth's voice rose into a howl; a cyclone that would have shattered the glass of every window and would wail throughout the entire penthouse. No one heard it but her – it overtook the sounds of music, applause, laughter and chatter, people moving all around her, blurs of color and sound – she nearly broke into a run through the crowd. She was racing back to her room to contain herself. The last thing she wanted was for one of her co-workers, or worse, her friends to see her like this.

She heard her name again and ran faster, gathering her skirt up. Whether it was Jareth or Bruce calling her name, she didn't know, and didn't really care.

She finally reached her room and threw herself inside. She slammed the door behind her and panting, she stopped, and pressed her back against the door.

This wasn't her room.

"_No…"_

She stood at the threshold of a fantastic ballroom lined with mirrors and gilded chandeliers. Rows of mirror-coated octagonal pillars rose to a vaulted, mirrored ceiling far above. She heard a soft _click _beneath her feet, and the polished floor began to move like a slow turntable.

Sarah lost her balance for a moment and stumbled back on her feet, her arms out to the side for balance as she traipsed out across the room, her million reflections waltzing with her into infinity.

The floor worked like the gears of a clock and the mirrors followed the circular motion with their own dance around Sarah.

She whipped around to find an exit, but her bedroom door had become a part of the ballroom. There was no way out.

Directly across from her was a mirror that was not moving and was larger than the others. Her unmoving reflection was in its untarnished surface, and she finally saw herself covered with gold that shimmered like a million tiny stars on her hair and skin. Sarah blinked in the bright light, gazing at her reflection.

Her sumptuous dress of black was a remarkable contrast in all the gold surrounding her, but the glitter that still clung to her skin and hair made _her_ sparkle in the light. Sarah peered closer, there was something wrong with her reflection, with the mirror. She stepped across to it.

Her reflected self began to smile. But she was not smiling! Sarah writhed in horror, but she couldn't pull away from the mirror. In it, her grin widened, insane. Her eyes became someone else's, lit with such wickedness.

The octagonal, mirror-lined pillars cast and re-cast her reflection throughout the room. Sarah was everywhere in plain sight, but hidden by the very infinity of her images.

"Why do you want _me_?" she screamed. The reflection didn't share her scream. The reflected Sarah stood there, hands hanging, silent.

Sarah exhaled in shuddering fear, waiting for something. The reflected Sarah mouthed something compelling, something the real Sarah felt she should say with it:

"Marked by a King…"

Sarah touched a hand to her lips, blinking. That had not been her voice. Someone else was in the room with her. She looked back and around her – nothing but a million of her own moving reflections. She looked back at the mirror, and sucked in her breath. There, looking back at her, was Jareth.

His hands held her still and caressed her shoulders sending tingles down her arms and body. She shivered as she leaned back into the arms behind her. She felt his hands moving slowly over her skin sending waves of fire throughout her being. Her mind felt foggy, as if she was being drugged.

Sarah watched, her lips parted, in the mirror, as Jareth brushed his lips over her shoulder, and up to the curve of her neck, then gently kiss the skin just underneath her earlobe, tasting her sweet flesh.

She opened her mouth to protest, and in a flash, Jareth turned her around fully in his arms and finally crashed his lips to hers.

Sarah roughly pushed herself away again, only by mere inches, but still ripping the contact between them.

Jareth smiled against her mouth as she gasped for air. "Don't try and run from me," his voice was dark as night. "We are the same. And I will always find you."

She heard him take a rasping breath, and then bent to kiss her collarbone, trailing his mouth up her neck, tipping her head back - and then bit her gently on the chin. She twitched; he laughed and licked the corner of her mouth, then kissed her fully. Sarah felt him ease her lips open, as he deepened the kiss. A smooth, coaxing sensation – like the texture of melted chocolate – ran down her throat, down her chest, and finally uncurled in her stomach.

Sarah's resolve was failing her as he manipulated her body with his touch, his hands leaving her arms as they maneuvered skillfully over her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as she was overwhelmed by pure pleasure. She slumped against him, her will slowly dying. Her world seemed to be tumbling down around her as her senses went into overdrive. Not only was she feeling the pleasure that he was delivering to her body but she could distinctly feel his satisfaction in giving it.

He paused, drawing back to look into her eyes, and the alien of his own had darkened to midnight.

"Do you know how beautiful you are to me, Sarah?" he asked her. "Do you know what you do to me?" He grasped her face in his hands in one swift, almost delirious motion. "You are more precious than my days," he breathed unto her skin. "You are more beautiful than my dreams…" Her eyes moved to his and the hungry, desperate look on his face stopped her heart.

He took a hard grip over her neck and forced her to turn her face up to him. He sucked at her lower lip and bit her, just hard enough to make her cry out. He slid his tongue into her open mouth and urgently probed every corner of it.

Her entire body was on fire; a fire making its way relentlessly from her thighs over her belly and breasts to the beating pulses on her throat and finally reaching her swollen lips. She opened her eyes again and looked at his face through her lashes. She found that she couldn't, wouldn't withdraw. His touch was achingly arousing and he was killing her with it. She knew and could see that none of this escaped him. Lust, desire, naked hunger, all feelings played like light and shadows on his face and something else, extremely terrible and frightening was there in his eyes. He scared her, he taunted her and she wanted him so badly that she was shaking with the need.

"Come here," he said quietly. He took her hand in his gloved one and turned her back around to the same mirror that Sarah's reflection had smiled back at her. Circling her waist with an arm, he drew her body against his. Despite her better judgment, she instinctively leaned into him, wanting more contact.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" His deep voice in her ear sent shivers racing down her spine. He pressed against her more firmly. "Look at yourself, Sarah."

Sarah looked. His hand loosened on her waist to lay flat against her stomach as his other hand ran up the side of her body. She watched him, fascinated, as he stroked his hand up her body; he ran a light fingertip across her bare collarbone, tracing the line of her cleavage down until the bust of her dress stopped him again and he skipped down to circle her ribcage.

Sarah's eyes fluttered closed, her breath quickening. His hand suddenly left her body. "You aren't looking, Sarah," he said, his voice in her ear dousing her body in heat. Her eyes fluttered open again, gazing at his own beautiful face in the mirror. Her mouth parted as she began to breathe harder. She leaned further back, allowing both of his hands to wander all over her body. One moved to her hip and the other further up, ghosting above her breasts.

She studied their reflection in the mirror, her body draped half-dressed over his, the wanton flush on her face, the glazed look in her eyes. And his hands - those wonderful, clever hands, reaching across and caressing her skin. She steadied herself by grasping his hips as he inserted one leg between hers, pushing her thighs apart. Her blood started to pound between her legs in rhythm with the raging beating of her heart.

She saw his smiling mouth, but when she looked into his smoldering eyes they were far from amused. Instead she recognized his carnal hunger, his terrible desire and craving for her, and she caught her breath with a hitching sound in her throat.

"You want me, Sarah." His voice was smoke, fanning her desire higher. He leaned in closer, his mouth brushing her ear and speaking into her very essence. "You set my body on fire, and melt my heart and soul."

Tears were welling up, she bit her lips so hard she tasted blood. She wanted him and this to happen so terribly. She knew she couldn't resist much longer…

Something flashed at the corner of her eye. It looked red – with a flicker of blue.

Jareth suddenly wrapped one arm around her waist and the other grasped her hand. With a rough sigh, he lifted her easily into his arms and spun her around the floor, with a dance of their own.

Her back was still against his chest, but it felt as if he were twirling her through water. He lifted her hand and spun her around to face him in one deft motion. The floor moved beneath them, Sarah only had to follow Jareth's lead.

Another flash of bright red – a cape reflected a million times over.

Sarah's focus became blurred as dark music began to play from everywhere - tiny bells turning into a full orchestra of a music box melody she knew so well. Their dark reflections followed them everywhere, turning and spinning with them.

She caught another color – blue and yellow.

Her skirt whirled and their hair flowed together in the gusts of magic that surrounded them. Faster and faster until she became too dizzy to stay on her own feet.

A rush of red again, but this time, a set of mirrors on the other side of the room captured a black, scalloped cape.

"Let me go." She was breathing too heavily. Jareth's grip had become too tight.

He kissed her temple. "Not yet."

"Stop…" She tried to pull away. She didn't know which way is up.

Two figures came into full view against the rapid blur of gold and reflected silver. Her diamond flew out of the top of her dress and gleamed brightly in the light. Her vision became almost normal again as she recognized one man in the mirrors dressed in black and the other man in brilliant red, blue, and yellow.

She finally had the strength to break away from Jareth's dance. But she didn't have the capacity to stand on her own feet, her head was still spinning, and she fell to the ground on her side.

The music, mirrors, and the floor all stopped when she hit the ground.

Sarah gasped for air, her body was visibly shaking, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her racing heart and her racing mind.

Jareth stood where he was and looked down at her, his face becoming inscrutable.

"I…" Sarah took another breath. "I am not the villain."

The spell was broken. The bright, golden light faded into one dim light in a far corner as the mirrors shattered and crashed down around her. From the broken frames and plates that held their glossy surfaces came the walls of her bedroom.

She was still sprawled on the floor when she whipped her head around to the only mirror that was left standing – the one that stood at her vanity. The golden glitter was gone. Her hair, skin, and dress were completely cleansed of it.

But in the mirror, Jareth smiled at her before he vanished.

* * *

**AN: **End of Part 3. I can;t tell you the number of times I had to listen to Cirque du Soleil's Alegria to help me through this. I hope to get the next chapter up soon. Thanks to the few who are still reading! If you miss action scenes, they'll be coming soon.

Shalom y Amor


	22. Under My Armor

The Russian savored his last glass of vodka before casting his large, bulbous eyes on the man sitting across from him. He didn't fear this man, but he made him uneasy. He was one of the few that escaped Arkham Asylum during the incident at The Narrows and managed to elude Batman's grasp to this day. Of course his gang was able to as well. But Dr. Crane had a streak of madness to him that none of his men had – even Yuri.

In fact, even with Yuri standing behind him, his turquoise eyes blazing under the light, tensed and ready to protect his master with the ferocity of a pitbull; the Russian didn't think Yuri would be much of a fighter against a highly concentrated toxin that could kill you by fear alone.

Dr. Crane was a former psychiatrist who used a variety of drugs and psychological tactics to exploit the fears and phobias of his patients. Up until now, it was a secret practice; until the night of The Narrows – then every vile act Crane did to his patients was revealed. Ever since then, Dr. Crane became 'The Scarecrow' because of the burlap sac he wore on his head while he induced his patients. And for scaring those who got in his way, quite literally, to death.

For this reason, though he would never admit, the Russian was grateful that Dr. Crane didn't decide to wear the sac during this meeting. He still didn't trust Crane completely, but the propositions he was offering was proving too be good to pass up.

"I'm aware that you're not intimidated by me, sir," smiled. "But you're well aware of who I used to work for. Our plan to take over Gotham almost worked."

Even Crane's voice had a slight slither in it. The Russian had to brush it aside. This was a business deal, he had no room for intimidation.

"Almost," the Russian replied cynically.

"Regardless, it should be obvious that I'm a good and honest man to do business with."

The Russian cocked a gray eyebrow and didn't say anything.

Crane smiled coldly. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Not quite." The Russian leaned forward and considered him. Eyes narrowing, he sensed there was something else Crane wanted. There was that nervous energy Crane had in him that he could barely keep contained. "What else do you want?"

Crane's full lips turned into a bigger smile. "I thought you'd never ask. I've had several failed experiments with Gambol's gang."

"So I've heard. Mostly women."

"Not mostly," Crane corrected. "All." He shifted in his seat animatedly. "Women are fascinating creatures, aren't they? They have strengths that amaze men. They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry…"

"So who is the next unfortunate victim?"

"Miss Sarah Williams."

The Russian gave a long winded sigh and glanced up at Yuri. Yuri flicked his eyes down to his boss then back to Crane again.

"This woman again!" The Russian threw his hands up. "Why is she so important?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, I thought she stole our dear Mr. Maroni's heart."

The Russian huffed. "We tried to show our strength once through this woman. But it seems the Batman watches everyone, everyone! My own Captain," he threw up at a hand at Yuri, "cannot find her now. It's enough to drive me mad that we cannot even find one woman! My men follow her after she leaves the theater everyday. They say she leaves in a black car, but every time, every time they lose her! They say they get lost or that the car itself disappears. Enough to drive me mad!

"Your men are good at what they do. But I'm even better. I've managed to run from the Batman long enough, haven't I? I'll find her. I have my ways." He leaned forward even more, glancing at Yuri, though not intimidated by him in the least. "And Bruce Wayne will pay a king's ransom."

The Russian cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she's been seen with Mr. Wayne himself, she even stays at his penthouse."

"How do you know this?" Yuri cut in. He was clearly annoyed that Crane knew about this and he didn't.

"I have my ways," Crane didn't even bother to look at Yuri.

The Russian settled back in his chair. Having Crane that close was unnerving, and he was trying hard to hide his discomfort. Crane was able to hide in Gotham for this long. And another drug trade would prove profitable. This was something Maroni didn't have. The Russian was determined to regain the former power and wealth he once had in Gotham, by any means necessary.

"So you want to experiment with this pet of Bruce Wayne's?" The Russian shook his head. "I have personally never underestimated the Wayne family. That was all Falcone, and look where he is now, rotting away in Arkham! I warn you now, Crane. This cannot be traced back to me. Bruce Wayne is more powerful than we all think. My connection to you would ruin me."

"So you won't make the deal?"

"I will make the deal. But only if _Maroni_ knows it was me, and no one else."

"I thought that was the whole point." Crane shifted in his chair again, growing more and more eager by the second. "Now, your men would have to bribe a cop to get us into the penthouse. But these days it doesn't take more than a hundred dollar bill to get them to do what we want, they're all so desperate for extra cash."

"Cops just like us. We used to have it so good."

"And this will show the Batman that we will not be intimidated, anymore. That we still have the upper-hand in this city."

"If we pull this off right."

"The Batman can't be everywhere. He can't be very concerned about a pet of Bruce Wayne's."

* * *

Sarah glanced at the clock. It was just about six. She felt weighted down with fatigue. Her nights had become sleepless, and what sleep she did get were disturbed by frightening dreams – of a serpent with a woman's face, her hair swept up in points, of a lean, muscular man in black, his eyes burning coals.

None of it made any sense to her. The man in black might have, but she pushed it back and locked it away in the back of her mind again.

She threw her sheets aside and stalked over to the window. She walked out onto the balcony and looked up at the sky, which was clear and gray, with a faint yellow stripe on the horizon. Dawn was slowly approaching. The hours had ticked past slowly tonight, but she was exhausted.

"_I've got to give another performance tonight," _Sarah thought dismally. "_Where am I going to find the energy?" _

She hadn't seen Bruce or Jareth for two days now. She couldn't confront either of them even if she wanted to. She couldn't confront Bruce about Maroni, and Jareth… there were so many things she wanted to say to him.

Sarah ran her hands through her hair; despite this horrible bout of insomnia, she would not turn to pills. Her nightmares may have been hideously vivid but every once in a while, she would have a good dream. There were no men in black or serpent women or walls that howled. These dreams didn't have Jareth as the Goblin King or dancers in mocking masks. Sometimes during a lucid dream, Clark was there in bright red and blue…

Sarah finally did fall asleep, but not until seven in the morning. Much later in the afternoon, she arrived at the theater, put on her makeup, changed into her costume, and waited for her cue offstage.

It was the first scene of the play and Salome had some time before entering, but she always had to be prepared. Someone sidled up beside her and watched the scene unfold with Sarah.

"You feeling okay?" Connor asked.

Sarah started almost violently.

"Sorry," Connor put his hand on her shoulder. "Didn't mean to scare you. You're so jumpy these days."

He rubbed her back as she took a breath of air. "Yeah," Sarah murmured. "Yes. I'm just tired."

Connor took her arm and led her out into the closed hallway so as not to disturb the play. He quietly shut the door behind him with a click. "At least Salome's supposed to be tired."

Sarah glanced over Connor, who was playing the part of King Herod. "I think she's the opposite of tired."

"True. Although Biblically, she wasn't this bad. She was just following orders from mommy."

"Well, I thank the gods above that I'm not the daughter dutifully obeying her mother's request." Sarah swept her train of skirts back behind her. "She loves, suffers and hates. She's not disturbed by her mother's treachery or the attacks from John the Baptist. What tortures _her_ are the black eyes and red lips of John the Baptist, a man who scorns her love and denies her lust."

Connor smiled. "And because she's a beautiful princess she thinks this is an absolute abomination."

Sarah toyed with a ring on her finger absently. "Maybe."

"It's funny," Connor said. "I've been thinking more and more about this play every time I perform. There are no moral actions here: all of the characters act out their desires. No choices are made so there is no heroism or tragedy. The characters act as they must. There are no allegorical, Freudian or even feminist interpretations. There is no moral. The characters move, act, and die."

Sarah stared down at her fingers clad in so many gold rings. "Salome gets what she wants." She turned another around her thumb. "At a price."

"Obviously it wasn't worth it."

"It was enough for her."

"No morals." Those words were for her, and Sarah glared up at him through her lashes, but Connor gave her a blithe smile in return. "I should get to my place. Knock 'em dead, princess."

Sarah watched him leave with a clear frown on her face. _"How dare he say I have no morals,"_ she thought. _"He doesn't know me. He doesn't know anything about me!"_ She sighed deeply and rolled her head upward. _"You're maybe getting __**too**__ much into your character."_

She looked down at her rings again and stared into their gold luster and ruby shine. They all glittered under the light but none would ever come close to her diamond.

"_Salome wears so many rings on her fingers…" _she thought. She felt the longer she looked at them, the further away her thoughts became.

"What ring?"

She heard a voice come from the auditorium.

"The death ring…"

Louder now.

"Yet it is a terrible thing to strangle a king."

Sarah laughed to herself. "_Why? Kings have but one neck, like other men…"_

She suddenly snapped to attention. That was supposed to be a line spoken just before she entered. She was going to miss her cue! She gathered her skirts and ran back into the auditorium, just offstage.

The stage manager was beside himself when he saw her. He whispered harshly in her ear, "Miss Williams, you're on!"

Sarah rushed past him, held her chin up, and hurried onstage; as if she really was escaping Herod's banquet.

Sebastian was playing the part of the Syrian and he was near the front of the stage, along with four other actors playing the page, the Cappadocian, and two soldiers. They all turned to watch Salome pace through the garden in a panic. And before she could say her first line, Sarah suddenly heard a whisper just behind her.

They all heard the whisper. It was as clear as if someone else were with them onstage. They looked at each other, all surprised, and all thinking that the other had said something. They looked back at Carl, who was guarding the cistern Iokannon was put in. He just stared back, just as shocked as them. No one was supposed to speak. They stared at one another long enough until Sarah blinked and resumed her lines. Everyone immediately became their characters again.

"I…I will not stay," Sarah's uneasiness was easy to translate into her character's. "I cannot stay…"

The whisper again, this time louder but still incoherent.

The men onstage dropped their characters again and started shifting in place and looking to each other. But Sarah stayed focused and shook the cold shiver from her skin. She would not be humiliated in front of hundreds of people. She continued with her lines and her cast mates followed her lead.

The moon on stage became illuminated, and Salome sat to stare at it. "How good to see the moon! She is like a piece of money, a little silver flower. She is cold and chaste. I am sure she is a virgin." A low, husky laugh now instead of a whisper. Only this time, it was only Sarah who heard it. "Yes, she is a virgin," she spoke more pronounced. "She has never defiled herself. She has never abandoned herself to men, like the other goddesses."

Another laugh. Deep, and almost scornful.

Salome ignored it and waited for Iokannon to speak from his prison.

The play wore on until the scene changed into the interior of Herod's palace. Salome danced and the horrid deed was done. Now was the final scene in which Salome eclipsed the moon and was about to demand the head of Iokannon.

She glided across the stage and took a breath. Inside, Sarah began to run the final inner monologue in her mind. She stopped beneath the tower of Herod, and just as she was about to speak, she felt someone walk up beside her.

She whipped around, expecting to find Jareth behind her, finally. But the space was empty. No one was there. But she felt someone was there, she knew someone was there, but she couldn't see anything. She was completely thrown, but she couldn't take the time to look for Jareth or try to understand why he wasn't showing himself; there were hundreds of people waiting for her to speak her lines. She took another breath, and before she could speak, someone else spoke.

"_Grasp it, sense it… I chose you…"_

She was frozen. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. She was waiting for a touch or a breath. But nothing came.

There was still silence. Everyone was still waiting for her to speak. She had to go on through the play, and she did. Only just...

* * *

"Miss Williams hasn't touched her food."

Bruce pulled off the black cowl from his head, shook out his damp hair, and frowned at Alfred. Bruce's face was stony and his lips were set in a clear frown as he set the cowl aside and began the process of removing his armor and scalloped cape.

"She's barely eaten for three days," Alfred persisted. "She refuses to come out of her room. And last night, I heard her crying out in her sleep. She kept repeating a name – Jareth."

Piece by piece, Bruce began to shed the Batman from his skin, grimacing in slight pain as he did so. "Gareth?" he rasped, inspecting his bruised and bloody bicep.

"No, it was specifically Jareth."

"I've heard the name before. The first time she crossed paths with Yuri. I took her to the hospital, and in her delusional state she called for someone named Jareth."

"I've never heard a name like that."

"Neither have I."

Alfred dropped a stack of papers in front of him. "Against my better judgment, I've gone ahead and brought the Williams family records you asked for."

Bruce finally managed to pull out a shard of blood red glass from his arm. "Has anyone called for her?"

"Her manager calls for her everyday."

"I'm sure the understudy doesn't mind a few nights in the spotlight."

"Which is more important to you, sir?" Alfred asked pointedly, "Sarah's safety or her sanity?" He shifted his weight and raised his voice. "This is the first time in days you decided to try and clean the whole mess with the Russians and Maroni."

Bruce looked up and stared blankly at the mass of files and papers before him. He did stalk the streets tonight, looking for anyone who worked for the Russians or Maroni's gang. In fact, he found several, hence the bloody bruises on his arms and chest. But he managed to single out one short, squatty man with a gold chain draped around his hairy chest, whom he knew would talk under any circumstances.

After the rest of the men ran, crawled, or simply lay unconscious; Batman pulled up the man with the gold chain so that they were almost touching noses.

"I want information," Batman rasped harshly in the man's face.

The man broke down and started blubbering, "I don't anythin', man… I don't know…"

Batman tightened his grip. "Who do you work for?"

The man had his eyes clenched shut, tears were spilling from its corners. "No one…"

"WHO?"

The man whimpered and barely managed to open his eyes. What he was faced with was something that was frightening, unpredictable, and chaotic in the night, in the world, and was owning it. He knew he didn't have a chance against the Batman.

"I work for Maroni."

"And what was he doing with this?" Batman pulled out a yellow diamond bracelet. "Who was he giving it to?"

"An actress. Some chick in that fancy new theater. He wanted another chick to bang…" He was cut off when Batman clutched at his neck even tighter, close to choking.

"Why did the Russians go after her?"

"Isn't it obvious, man?" He struggled for breath. "She's something of the rival they can wipe out. Humiliate… discourage… ah, God…"

Batman loosened his grip just slightly. "And what did she say to Maroni?"

"Nothing that I know of, honest. I know the Russians are still looking for her though. But no one can find her. They won't set foot in the theater. Word is she disappears in and out of it."

"And Maroni? How is he able to go in?"

"My boss ain't afraid. He's still got connections in there."

"Who?"

"The director, some fancy chick, always wants money from Maroni. She even set it up between the actress and my boss."

"And what if the actress refused Maroni?"

"Then it would be bad. Very bad for both chicks."

"Several girls are dead now. Is that your boss' way of sending a message?"

The man's eyes suddenly widened. "That's not us, man, I swear! The Russians don't have nothin' to do with that either as far as I know! Please just let me go! I've told you everything…" He was suddenly thrown against the ground, hard. And when he looked up, the Batman was gone...

Bruce continued to stare at the wall as the words came out automatically. "I'm doing the best I can."

Bruce spoke so quietly and calmly. But Alfred felt like a dagger made of ice had just slashed his skin. He had to suppress a shiver.

Alfred swallowed hard. "You'll do nothing for her?"

"I'm not sure I can do much more." The voice of the Batman may have been gone with his body armor, but the implacable anger was still there. "I tried getting as much information as I could. I know that the Russians want Sarah for something else. Something other than a lover's quarrel. It has to do with all the women that are showing up dead in the streets of my city. But I can't go around killing every last one of them, Alfred. I have to bring them to justice in the most civilized way there is. But it all depends on timing, their greed, their desperation to stay afloat in the cesspool they created. No, I have to remain within my boundaries or else I'm no better than them." Bruce finally collapsed into his black leather chair. "I don't know who's killing these women, but as long as Sarah's under this roof, she'll be safe."

"Under your lock and key."

"That's not what I mean."

Bruce settled himself deeper in the chair and stared straight ahead. He tilted his head back and stared back at his ceiling. Sometimes he longed for the abyss of his cold, damp cave before the fire destroyed his manor. There were times when he wanted to be kept down there; away from the pain, away from attachments, away from the vice of Gotham and the people that made it so. It was his subterranean sanctuary for his alter-ego. Here, the whole world could see him. It was unnerving, maddening. It was a place for the Bruce Wayne he played and not the true person he was. Perhaps it was this place that was changing him, slowly tearing away the moral sanity he once had. He still had it, of course he did. But Alfred was right. It was cruel to keep Sarah locked up here with him. He knew that she was becoming more depressed with each passing day and that her loneliness was eating away at her.

But something inside Bruce seemed to take pleasure in Sarah's captivity. He needed her for his project, oh yes, the time would be soon before he could start asking the questions that had been swimming in his mind for months. But the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she could become just like him – a beautiful, broken piece of humanity. Something had happened in Sarah's past that had changed her immensely. He knew it from the night he first met her. That was part of the reason he had initially become so attracted to her. There was a secret she was hiding, perhaps there were several.

"_We suit each other well,"_ Bruce thought somberly.

But could he really do that to another person, to Sarah? To turn someone into something just like him? Had he lived among the shadows for so long that he was actually considering this?

He knew for a fact that he was very capable of falling in love, it was his Achilles heel. He could have the greatest technology, the greatest weapons in the world; but his heart had no shield. It could be broken. Bruce and Batman were two different people, but his heart was the same, they could both love the same person. But anyone that was even remotely affiliated with Batman could be hurt. He would be broken all over again if someone he loved was lost the way his parents were. It's easy to make a choice if there are no consequences; but he knew that with him, the consequences were monumental.

* * *

**AN: **The next 2 chapters should be up in the next couple days. Much love to those who are still reading and reviewing MUAH!

Shalom y Amor


	23. Unveiled

It was mid-spring, but the air was crisp, the sky slightly clouded, threatening rain. The setting sun cast unnatural shadows along the skyline of Gotham City as gray storm clouds hovered nearer.

Sarah stood at her window and gazed outward. She remembered a time when she would sit at her old window seat and stare at the sky for hours on end. But the sky never seemed as blue here, or nearly as bright. And this was all she would ever see of the outside world. She had refused to act until Jareth showed himself again. She could not have him distracting her onstage. She didn't know what his game was this time, but he would not ever subject her to that kind of humiliation again.

Now this was all the contact she ever had outside of this penthouse. The penthouse, and this skyline - this was everything she had of her world now. No wonder she found such an escape with her books, and of how much more she was becoming the character of Salome.

The minute she had realized this, Sarah had run into a frenzy trying to find her script and notes. After she found it under a pile of books, she read and re-read the script over and over again. She could never be as crazy as to demand a head on a platter or even kiss it, much less. Maybe Salome was really a precocious young girl who simply longed for a kiss from the object of her obsession. Once a love-starved if spoilt teenager; the product of a loveless, broken family, and was in desperate need of attention.

But that seemed too easy.

Hours later, she stood in her room and waited for the rain to come. This was supposed to be the last of spring, and she wanted to see it before it left.

She had no appetite and had no desire to see Bruce. She didn't think she had the strength to ward off anymore of his advances. It was part weakness and part irritation. The attraction was clearly there but now it was just a matter of reining it in. She knew that people would be hurt on all sides if anything should happen.

A part of her hated him for keeping her here, for assuming the title of her lover, but then another part of her welcomed the protection that came with it. She knew the dangers were real because she had met Sal Maroni face to face. And if it really came down to it, she knew that Bruce was capable of protecting her, not to mention defending her honor if harsh rumors of her and Maroni should fly.

"_Salome in her guarded palace…"_ she thought.

She walked to the windows and opened them slowly as if in a trance. She stepped outside, the wet stone chilling her bare feet. Inhaling with deep breaths the damp air as raindrops fell on her face and into her hair. She welcomed them all. She closed her eyes and let the water wash over her. She braced her hands on the banister and let them slip slowly away from her until her forehead touched the glass railing in an almost reverent gesture.

The cold, gray sky blazed with white lightning followed by the crack of thunder. Her heart sped as the thunder came ever closer and as for a moment, she mistook the raindrops icing down her neck for Jareth's fingers...

Her eyes flashed open and her head shot up and around when she heard a sound behind her.

Bruce was standing outside the door, the raindrops just beginning to wet his skin and clothes.

They both stood there in the cold rain, staring at each other, their heavy breath merging with one another's. They both wanted to say something, anything.

"_Why do you keep me here?"_

"_I need you."_

"_There are masks all around me."_

"_Forgive me for what I'm doing to you."_

"_Let me go."_

"_I want you."_

"_I want you."_

"Why did you tell Alexandra?" Sarah finally cried, water spluttering out of her mouth.

"I was protecting you…"

"Why?" she nearly screamed. "Because you think you're untouchable? Because you think you rule this city? You're wrong! Nothing's changed! You lied to me…"

He took a step closer. "Sarah, I had to."

She turned away from him. "Why couldn't you just tell me? You made me look like a fool! He was there on opening night, did you know that?" She whipped around to him again. "Sal Maroni was there! He wants to make me his mistress, his whore! I _won't_ do it." There was such venom in her voice, yet Bruce's face didn't change, like he expected her to be at near hysterics.

"Is he so different from me?" he asked her. "Isn't all of this what he wants to give you?"

"Why do you assume so much of me?" She tensed despite the warmth he radiated. "I'm tired of being the princess in the tower. It's not what I am."

"But I _want_ to treat you like one."

She was trying so hard not to cry out of pure frustration. "Would you stop? Don't you know how much this is killing me? Do you know what it's like to hate you and be attracted to you at the same time? Sitting near you, talking to you, pretending not to feel anything, and not knowing what's going to happen next…"

"Then let's not wait to find out."

In a flash, he rushed towards her and claimed her lips with his in a searing kiss, his fingers twining in her hair. And without thinking, she threw her arms around him and kissed him back with all the intensity and need she had been holding back for so long. She was dying, starving for love; for the crazed abandonment she was craving from Jareth ever since he had come back into her world, but still refused it for herself.

Her breath hitched at the shock of feeling Bruce's body pressed up against her. She felt her body succumbing more and more and her mouth opening wider to his probing tongue. Helpless moans of surrender escaped her lips as she crushed her mouth against his and held onto him desperately.

For a moment the world simply stopped, and they could no longer feel the rain or the cold evening air.

With a growl, Bruce tightened his grip on Sarah's waist and lifted her up. She wrapped her body around him and didn't protest when she felt the rain leave her and was welcomed with warm, dry air. Her lips moved fervently with his as Bruce stumbled into her bedroom and threw themselves unto her bed. He quickly pinned her down with his weight as his hands recklessly grabbed at her waist and hips.

Sarah's eyes finally flew open and grew huge when she felt Bruce's lips and mouth against her neck, tasting her skin.

Images suddenly began to flash in her mind. She saw a dark alleyway crawling with shadows, a man dressed in heavy black scowling at her, blood on the pavement, and a Goblin King furiously crushing a crystal ball in his hand.

She gasped openly. She could have sworn she actually heard the crystal shattering in Jareth's hand.

"Oh god…" she whispered. But Bruce only took that as an initiative and began to travel further down her neck.

"No, wait," she pleaded. Her emerald eyes were swimming with unshed tears as she strained against him. Her body was screaming at her. But her heart and her mind wanted differently. She knew this wasn't right, despite how good it felt.

She managed to push him away with what strength she still had left. Bruce could barely restrain himself as he looked down at her struggling in his grasp, her sensuous form now trembling more with fright than with cold. Her flushed skin and the gold in her eyes now bright and shimmering with tears; it only made her all the more striking. He cursed under his breath as he shifted his weight and sought to kiss her again.

"Please, no," Sarah breathed, still fighting as she felt her own need for a caress again weaken her resolve. The sweet touch of his lips caressing her lips and neck was almost more than she could bear. She arched against him, hanging on to her last thread of reason. "I can't…" Her last protest was no more than a whisper.

"Sarah," Bruce stopped, his breath ragged in her ear. "Sarah," he groaned hoarsely, burying his face in her hair.

He placed a long kiss on her forehead, slipped his arms around her waist and moved to the side so that she was no longer pinned beneath him. She didn't pull away from him, nor did she reach over to hold him. Instead she lay very still in his arms.

She knew he was unsure and utterly confused on what kind of ground he was standing on with her. After they had shared that kiss the first time… He must have known that the attraction was mutual. She knew of his intentions since the beginning, but she had never let on to how she truly felt… until now.

The two of them were silent for a long moment, but both took deep, full breaths of air.

"Well," Bruce sighed, "now that everything is out in the open, maybe we should think about becoming official. No lies or facades to hide behind, you and me together as a genuine couple."

Sarah shifted out of his arms and clear to the other end of the bed, her eyes wide. "Bruce, I came to Gotham because I had a really good opportunity to work, to do what I love; and in a matter of weeks I went from someone who thought she had some control and order to her life but I clearly wasn't. I am in fear for my life and you want me to be your _girlfriend_? Is that the only thing you can say to me?" Sarah's temper had crossed over her control and her voice was steadily rising. "I'm locked in here day and night because if I put one foot outside that lobby door I'll be killed and you're worried about reputation! Is going out in public with you going to be my only link to the outside world?"

Bruce furrowed his handsome brow and propped himself on one elbow. "No, of course not. We can think of something. Maybe one day all of this will be over and done with and then we can start over and you can have your life back. Would it really be so terrible? You would live with me here without any complications. Sarah, you could have anything you want."

It was the worst thing he could have said. He watched the color drain from her face and he frowned openly, clearly expecting a different reaction.

"Anything I want? I want my life back!" She screamed, tears forming again. "I've worked so hard at what I do and for me to be with you would be a one way ticket to the absolute hell I'm going to face. Not just with my company and the goddamn mob but with the tabloids that are going to follow every step of the little privacy I have left of my unhappy life!"

Bruce's nostrils flared and his face went white. No one had the nerve to speak to him like that and he was certainly not used to a woman outright refusing him.

Sarah lowered her voice, but it was still and icy, the same tone she had used with Jareth. "I admit that at one point I did consider it. But at what cost down the road? To be some numb society mistress who is forced to look the other way when Bruce Wayne takes another woman?"

"There won't be other women…"

"People don't change just like that! They either change for the better or not at all. I don't have that blindness that comes with wealth. There's truth and there's lies. There is black and white and no amount of money is ever going to make me see gray."

To her surprise, Bruce seemed taken aback. "You really believe the world is black and white?" he asked steadily.

"When it comes to this – yes, it is."

"So, your answer is no."

"My answer is no. And there's nothing you can say or do that will ever make me change my mind." With that, Sarah rushed into her bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Bruce fumed silently and glared at the closed door. He was seriously debating whether to break the door down or not, but of course, that would have only made it worse. There would be another way to get her to talk, he reasoned as he stalked out of her room.

But he felt a sharp, quick stab in his chest when he went into his office and clicked the button to his hidden room. He would have enjoyed having her as a companion, as a lover. He truly would have.

* * *

Both of their egos bruised, Sarah gave a deep, shuddering sigh and slid down the door to the floor of her bathroom. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head. Her remaining tears slid off her cheeks as she sat motionless, staring at the wall until she saw herself in her mind's eye as Bruce's would-be lover.

She would be everything he wanted her to be. And every night she would fall asleep alone until one rare evening when he would join her. And when she was ready, she would wordlessly, as if she were on autopilot, walk to the bed and lay down, wrapping herself up in the covers and wishing to just forget about the one thing she really wanted. But she couldn't forget. She didn't want to. She would always remember.

A part of her understood why Jareth had done all the things he had. He tested her. He made her the person she was. Without him, she wouldn't have been Sarah Williams.

And there was one thing she _was_ certain of in this world of lies and illusions - she loved Jareth, regardless of the past. Even as Bruce joined her in the bed and wrapped his arms around her, she would be wishing for the arms of another man. Another man's voice… another man's warmth.

She supposed an hour had passed, maybe two. She was still sitting against the bathroom wall, her head still resting on her knees. Bruce had left her room long ago, but she felt like she couldn't get far enough away from him.

A light suddenly flicked on. She looked up, and nearly screamed; jumping back into the wall.

"Sarah," Jareth acknowledged coldly.

It was hard to breathe. "No, no, no," she moaned, turning her face away from him. "No more…"

"You betrayed me…" he hissed.

"Don't you dare accuse me of betrayal!" she bit back, her head whipping back up. Her mind may have been unable to deal with the sudden appearance of Jareth, but his attack caused her instinctive defenses to flare. She glared back at him as he leaned in close, eyes blazing fire, sheer stubbornness giving her the courage to bare her teeth back at him.

"I will not be your puppet any longer," he warned.

"You're not my puppet," she insisted. "You never were. It's all just a game with you, isn't it?"

"Enough!" he bellowed, the walls shaking. "I can't stand to hear you play the role of the victim any further! You're as much to blame as I. What is it that you want from me? I have done everything for you, and this is how you repay me? Sharing a bed with another man?"

He spoke so rapidly that her mind was having a hard time following. "There is _nothing_ going on between me and Bruce!"

"Do you think me a fool!" he roared. "Do you think I'm blind?" His eyes were blazing in that horrible way again, flaring like a fire storm.

"Stop!" she screamed back. She couldn't bear him when his face was stark white from anger, his hair beginning to shine in that terrible silver light. "Stop it! You can't haunt me like this anymore! I can't live my life knowing you're my constant shadow. The only reason you're even speaking to me is because I've allowed it…"

His voice was deathly calm, but held that trembling shade of accusation. "Yes, you have allowed it. You allowed it because you _want_ me to love you. You enjoy the obsession, the craving I have for you. You enjoy it because it makes you feel desired… wanted."

Sarah tried to speak as she slowly rose from the floor, but Jareth stepped closer, and she abruptly shut her mouth.

"I know you, Sarah," he said huskily. "You want love more than anything in this world. You want it more than you want all of this," he gestured around him. "If I said I didn't love you anymore, would you be angry with me? Yes you would be. Because I _know_ you. I have _loved_ you, love you now, and I will keep on loving you. As much as I hate you." There was desperation in his voice, like he had been longing to say this to her for years. "Only y_ou_ had the power to take my soul, my mind, and you leave me with a sick heart. The moment I fell in love in with you was the moment I lost my life!" The last words were a harsh rasp that escaped from his clenched teeth.

Sarah stared at the gloved hands that were fists at his sides. How many times had she been offered this and had refused? There were so many reasons why she couldn't admit she loved him in return. Of course she wasn't ready to leave her world, she didn't know if she ever would be. Moving across the country or even across the globe was one thing, but to live in another dimension was entirely different.

He was also still of the darkness that she couldn't bring herself to embrace, though she knew she was falling into that pool of profound misery and hollowness quickly. And worst of all, if she ever did admit she loved him, he truly would have power over her. It was the final nail in the coffin.

Sarah looked up and could still see the hidden sadness that lay in his mismatched eyes. At this point she knew that every word he said was true. Her mind flashed back to the night he almost took her to the Underground, and Superman came at the last minute, taking her away. Jareth didn't have the power to take her now as he did then. She made sure of that.

But he still needed her as much as he did then, perhaps even more so. He needed her so he could finally be at peace, but at the cost of her freedom. That's what she stole from him years ago, his own free will, as ill-fated and dismal as it seemed. But it was still his.

"_For when a Fae falls in love, there is simply no other Above or Below ground that will suit him now. He is doomed to cherish her forever…"_

Sarah wished he had never said that, she wished that it weren't true.

Her eyes suddenly widened. She _could_ wish for that. She could say the words that would make it so. They could both become free of the bonds they had lashed on each other.

But then her heart suddenly dropped. Jareth was right. She did crave for his love as much as she hated his anger and arrogance; she loved having the Goblin King beg for her love in return. It was certainly a power struggle any young woman would relish in; and secretly, Sarah enjoyed it just as much as the next, while pushing down the shame and selfishness that came with it.

In the end, however, she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Perhaps Jareth had already thought to make her say the words, that she wished he wouldn't love her. He was more than clever, he must have already thought of it, otherwise he would have tried to force her to wish it of him. Perhaps it couldn't be done at all or he didn't want to stop loving her either, despite the torment it gave him.

Jareth was known to be somewhat sadistic at times. Sarah wouldn't put it past him to be cruel even to himself.

"I…" she faltered. Really, what could she tell him? That she truly did love him, but she was afraid to tell the truth? She, who ran a Labyrinth and confronted more dangers in her own world than she did in his, was afraid to say three little yet earth-shattering words. Or that she was so devastatingly lonely that it was return to his world or die? But what a crazy, wonderful idea it would be to return and stay in that world. "I need to sit down," she said lamely, sounding shakier than she'd hoped. She turned slowly and opened the door.

"Sarah…" Jareth said in a warning tone.

"I just need to sit down," she said calmly over her shoulder. In a voice so quiet she almost thought he wouldn't hear, she said, "you're welcome to join me."

She stepped slowly into her bedroom, flicking on the small light next to her bed. She looked up and found Jareth already standing in the corner, his arms crossed, and his body leaning into the wall. She grabbed her sweater from a nearby chair, wrapped it around her, and carefully, slowly sat on the edge of her bed. Jareth watched her every move, his eyes glittering like dark stars. Thunder rumbled outside and rain continued to beat down on the city below.

"If you did see everything that happened," she said, "then you must have heard everything too." She stared up at him, imagining what it would feel like if Jareth had these same feelings for another woman. She knew she would be heartbroken. "I don't want to be with Bruce."

"I did hear that," he said.

"My privacy doesn't mean anything to you, does it? That was my business and you had no right…"

"How he treats _you_ while under his roof _is _my business."

Sarah sighed, resigned, and became silent for a moment, shifting uneasily. "I'm afraid to stay here," she sighed in a whisper. "Everyone wants to turn me into something I'm not."

Jareth pushed himself from the wall, his face suddenly taken with interest. "And what do you think that is?"

Sarah watched him move silently toward her and turned her face to his when he stood next to her. "I said before that I wasn't the villain. I was the one who solved a Labyrinth when I was told I couldn't. I had help but I still did it. And from that night on, I chose my destiny. I chose to be the heroine." Her voice began to waver. "So why don't feel like one?"

She expected Jareth to grin like a wolf when she said this, to laugh in her face and tell her that he couldn't fight her doubts anymore. Instead, he knelt before her, took her hands, and said, "My dear, what makes you think you ever left the Labyrinth?" Her face went slack, but Jareth continued on. "My Labyrinth was just the beginning. You are now faced with finding your way through the Labyrinth of your truth, your voice, and yes, your destiny. You still face the false alarms that tell you to turn back, the creatures of this world who tell you you can't go forward. You want to be the heroine because that is what you were before, and what you admire in the human spirit. You are pure, yet I am not. But I can be your teacher. I can teach you the music of the night, of passion and love." Sarah's heart beat erratically against her rib cage. He was so close now. "I want to be the one to bring you to your full potential. You haven't embraced the dark power that that is in you and that you keep locked away."

Sarah stared at him and hoped that her hands wouldn't become too warm in his grasp. She watched the fixed look in his eye, his sincerity, his determination. "You're talking about taking my innocence." She blushed and looked down. "Figuratively."

He smiled deliciously. "Figuratively and literally." He turned her palms upward and kissed them, never taking his eyes from hers. Sarah trembled, watching him with a glazed look. "You can surrender to your darkest dreams and I will be your angel to guide and guard you through it all. "

"_An angel in hell,"_ Sarah thought sadly._ "But one that secretly longs for love and redemption." _

"Evil can come as an angel of light," she said evenly. "I've been a victim of your deception before."

"And I've told you before I am what I am. But it doesn't change how I adore my Sarah."

Her breath caught for a moment. She looked away from his eyes and around her room, it was so dark inside now that the only light was from her nightstand. She glanced over and noticed her large pile of books sitting under the light.

They were an unusual pair – her and Jareth, but something always inexplicably drew them together. There were stories that reflected their bond – myths, legends, epics, comedies, tragedies, the quest, overcoming the monster…

But the stories didn't give someone like Jareth a chance to lead him out of darkness and into the light of the world where he could finally find love and recognition – something only she could give. She didn't choose to believe, she knew by her power, the warmth of her diamond, the small glimmer of hope in Jareth's eyes, that he truly desired to find redemption from the darkness in his life. He wanted a little bit of the light that she had, but was forbidden to, unless she allowed it. Diving headlong into the crevasse with him meant embracing her own hidden darkness while he found light and freedom from the curse that had infected them both.

"I know your story," she said softly, her eyes locked on his. "You've been bound by an existence of loneliness for years while hidden Underground. Then I come into your life, which finally gives you the incentive to expose the essence of who you are to another human being."

She was talking about the Jareth that she had seen before and that he refused to reveal.

Jareth laughed under his breath bitterly. "My, what a great risk I shall take!"

They watched each other intently, and for a long while they regarded each other in silence, assessing, searching each other in the dim light. Jareth was bound in loneliness, despair, and isolation yearning for a life besides his own, he would have to take a great risk to escape his darkness in hell. He would certainly have to strip himself of his inner mask to find freedom and love.

Sarah opened and closed her mouth, unable to find anymore words. It seemed as if long hours had passed where they were, eyes locked on each other, both their faces becoming a meditative calm.

After some time, Sarah drew a breath, lifted her hands and encircled a golden strand of his hair. Jareth's gaze dropped for a moment, taken off guard by this simple gesture. She then traced her fingers delicately along his jawbone, inches away from his mouth; and they both flinched at the cold, stinging sensation that passed between them. Sarah forgot how touching his skin would cause an icy chill to flare through them. She shrank back, but Jareth caught her hands again and brought them back to his face. She began to tremble and looked at him warily, not wanting him to force her to touch him. The sensation was sometimes almost painful when they touched. But Jareth lifted her hands to his face again, cupping his cheeks with her palms.

Sarah flinched again and made a small noise at the back of her throat. The only way she could describe it was cold, electrical pricks that went up and down her body. It was uncomfortable and unnerving at first, but Jareth remained still and fixed her eyes in his unwavering gaze. Every nerve ending flared at the feel of skin each other. And soon, the pain was gone, with nothing left but the strange warmth of his cheeks. Sarah frowned and tilted her head just slightly. Only minutes ago, Jareth had been her adversary, someone she had little reason to trust. But in that moment, she felt such a connection it felt as if both their heartbeats beat to the pulse of the same song. She could actually feel her blood singing.

Jareth's face broke into a small smile. "Your hands were cold."

Sarah smiled with him and lowered her head. Jareth finally yet reluctantly pulled her hands away from his face but kept them clasped in his gloved ones.

"You are right about me," Jareth murmured. His warm breath lingered on her face, and she savored it. "The cruelty of the story exists. I've been betrayed and rejected again and again, and I always return to the dungeon of black despair, the prison of my mind that keeps me bound in my own wretched thoughts."

After a moment, Sarah managed to regain enough of her senses to speak. "Your world doesn't have to be so dark. It's only because you've made it that way. Don't give me all the responsibility of saving you from something you've created for yourself." She smiled knowingly. "I've seen magic used in the beholder. You can either use it for good or evil, and you have to make that choice."

Jareth frowned, strangely offended by her lack of guile. "You assume too much of something you don't understand."

Sarah suddenly lost some of the affection in her eyes when she saw the thin line Jareth's lips had set into. "I've been around enough magic in my lifetime to have a decent understanding of it." Her fingers flexed towards his jaw as she leaned further, her face inches from his own. "It takes great courage to risk taking off your mask to another," she almost whispered. "Because it carries a great fear that once you do, the rejection will return, and you will be dragged down to the dungeon of your black despair again. I don't know if I can make that journey down with you..."

Jareth squeezed her hands and brought them up to his lips for another kiss. "But it's slowly taking hold of you," he said as he stared ardently into her eyes.

Sarah's eyes could feel fresh tears and her breath hitched in her throat. It _was_ taking a hold of her. She only had her will to stop that from happening. But as strong as it was, she could see herself with Jareth more and more in the deep and empty darkness of melancholy that he surrounded himself with. It was one thing to refuse Bruce for a life she couldn't see herself having, but this was Jareth who knelt before her. It was becoming increasingly harder to refuse someone she truly loved. She could become a grand and powerful equal, because she wasn't a girl anymore. She was a maturing woman who was just on the cusp of entering a world of change… Jareth would be an excellent teacher.

Sarah took him in with glistening eyes. The leonine mane that was both radiant gold and cool silver, his aquiline nose, high cheekbones, imperious brows, sensual mouth, and his eyes – those terrible, numinous, mis-matched eyes. Oh, yes. He would make a wonderful teacher.

But would she ever again see the real Jareth that was behind the mask?

Jareth's gaze fell from her eyes to her lips, watching them intently. His voice was harsh with growing desire. "I wish for another kiss from Salome."

Sarah parted her mouth slightly as he raised his head toward hers with agonizing slowness. Their breaths mingled together.

"Will you catch me if I fall?" Sarah whispered, her heart racing in anticipation.

Jareth breathed in her scent and said huskily, "Only wish it of me, and I will make it so..."

* * *

**Shalom y Amor**


	24. Leverage

"Will you catch me if I fall?" Sarah whispered, her heart racing in anticipation.

Jareth breathed in her scent and said huskily, "Only wish it of me, and I will make it so..."

A loud knock at the door startled them both.

"Miss? May I come in?" Alfred's voice came from behind the closed door. Jareth bared his teeth and bore an inhuman growl in the back of his throat. He rose to his full height and summoned a crystal, preparing to throw it when the door opened.

"No!" Sarah hissed urgently, reaching for Jareth. Her hands grasped his face and forced him to look at her. Her face became so close to his that he could see the gold in her dark green eyes. "Please, no," she softly begged the Goblin King. Alfred was the absolute last person she wanted to see hurt.

Jareth didn't react. Not even a tilt of the head.

"Please don't hurt him," she tried again, her face turning into a desperate plea as she stroked his cheek delicately.

"Miss, are you alright?" Alfred called out.

Jareth snarled in response and twisted his wrist so that the crystal disappeared into nothing. His penetrating gaze bore into her eyes as he gathered her into him with an almost brutal embrace. The only movement he made after that were his nostrils flaring from each deep breath he took. Sarah watched transfixed, as he watched her.

"Please go," she whispered suddenly. She knew he was going to kiss her at any moment, and there would have been nothing she could have done to stop him.

"Promise me!" he rasped, his eyes blazing with desire. He was trembling with the effort to restrain himself. "Promise you will call for me."

Sarah could barely breathe, he was crushing her so tightly against him. She nodded and struggled for him to loosen his grip, but he wouldn't move. "Yes," she nodded more vigorously. "Yes, I promise. Please go!"

The door opened.

She immediately felt arms leave her body as she regained her balance, breath coming into her body again. Alfred flipped a switch and the ceiling light turned on, nearly blinding Sarah. Her hands flew to her ribcage, suddenly missing Jareth's arms around her body. She realized she had been staring at the spot Jareth had been standing a moment before, and looked up to see Alfred beside her, worry written all over his face.

"I said, is everything alright, miss?"

She didn't remember hearing him the first time. How long had he been standing there for? How long was it that Jareth had been standing here with her? Already it seemed like he had been gone for days.

"I… I'm not what you think I am, Alfred." Sarah finally blurted out. She didn't care how crazy or childish she sounded. Maybe she really was going crazy now. She was so confused, so conflicted about what she wanted and who she really was – exactly what was she was turning into?

Alfred took a step closer. "What do you mean, miss?"

"I mean I'm not normal!" she nearly shouted. "I can see things and I know things that other people can't…" She blinked back tears. "I'm different."

"Do you mean to say you have some sort of clairvoyant abilities?"

"I don't know…" She honestly didn't. "There have been certain events in my life that have made me what I am."

"Like what, miss?"

She was feeling little waves of panic flow through her. "I try to be a good person. God knows I'm trying!"

Alfred's voice became low and almost fearful. "Miss, what have you done?"

"Nothing, yet."

"Yet?"

Tears were falling freely now. Sarah tried to wipe them away with her sleeve but Alfred took pity on her and pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket.

"There now," he coaxed. "Sit down and calm yourself." Sarah complied and sat back down on her bed while Alfred wiped her tears away with his handkerchief. He was careful not to rub her skin too harshly and managed to clean her face as best as he could.

Sarah sniffed and looked down at her hands. "How do you resist temptation, Alfred? How do you resist the dark side of your soul?"

Alfred sighed deeply. "I know it's been hard living here, miss. I suppose it can't be easy knowing that your very life is in the hands of someone who means well. But keeps you here under lock and key." There was a slim note of accusation in Alfred's voice but he quickly composed himself. "Well, I would first start off by forgiving the events and people from the past that have perhaps wronged you, or you think have. And forgive yourself every once in a while. That's perhaps the only way to move on in life without getting bogged down with regrets and doubts. So why is it that we fall, miss?"

Sarah looked up at Alfred's serene and noble face.

"So that we might better learn to pick ourselves up." He smiled genuinely and with more warmth than Gotham's sun. "Would you like something to eat, miss?"

She was close to her father, but since she didn't have much contact with him these days, Alfred was the closest thing to a parent she could have. He had been the one shining light in these dark times. And she found herself loving him as a friend and even as a father more and more each day.

She spoke in a small voice. "Yes, please."

"I have just the thing for you then, miss."

Before he even moved, Sarah wrapped her arms around him tightly. Alfred responded in kind, and stroked her long black hair back, sitting with her until she was ready to let go, like a good father should.

* * *

After eating the entire meal Alfred had made for her, Sarah wandered the hallways for the first time in days, pondering her next move. She would dearly love to go back to work. Maybe now that she and Jareth had reached somewhat of an understanding, he shouldn't bother with her onstage anymore. Speaking of which…

Sarah stopped and turned around, looking down the dark and empty hallway. It was almost midnight, close to the witching hour.

"Jareth…" She waited for a minute, maybe two. Nothing.

She shrugged and tried to hide her disappointment. Maybe he hadn't heard her…

After a while, Sarah found herself walking down another long, dimly lit hallway, and stopped suddenly. She looked ahead of her and found she had stopped just in front of Bruce's study. The door was slightly ajar and allowed for one stream of lamplight to crack through. She knew that no one would have been in Bruce's study this late. Putting one hand against the door hesitantly, she pushed it open and stared at the dark figure in the corner flipping through a book.

His back was turned to her, but the white gold mane of hair gave him away. He looked back at her and held up the book, smirking. "Not nearly as interesting as any of mine."

"Hey!" she hissed, rushing into the study and closing the door behind her. "What are you doing in here? Get out!"

He raised a brow. "And who are _you _to give an order to me in someone else's home."

"Stop…" she came to his side to take the book from him. But he had already snapped it shut and reached across her to the other bookshelf to put it back; he was effectively caging her into the corner. He braced his hands on either sides of her and leaned down to her level, close to her neck.

"You called for me." He could have been a teenager in love with the look he had on his face. Sarah almost smiled, but she bit her lip, forcing the urge down.

"Kiss me," he said.

Sarah nearly lost her breath. "What?"

"Kiss me," Jareth repeated, grinning at her. Biting back a sigh Sarah tilted her head and brushed her lips against his in a brief yet teasing kiss. Jareth laughed under his breath as he pulled her hair from her shoulders and dipped his lips against the curve of her neck. Sarah's eyes fluttered as he left a trail of kisses on her sensitive skin. She could feel herself blushing as Jareth pressed his face into her hair; yet there was something in the way he held himself that made her almost uncomfortable. He was so different from the night before… like he was tormenting himself now on how much he wanted her and the thought that he could not have her until she gave her consent to him.

"Stop," she whispered into his ear.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently against her neck.

She cast her gaze down and whispered, "I can't… not here."

He sighed and for a few minutes he was silent, but finally he nodded. "Fine," he murmured, lifting his chin and kissing her temple tenderly.

She pushed his arm away and slipped past him. She looked back warily and he smiled at her with a devilish grin. The diamonds, orange, and gold topaz that bejeweled his black-armored chest sparkled dazzlingly under the light. She had to look away from him, but the reflecting specks of light nearly covered the whole room.

He was as unpredictable as he was entrancing. Excitement, sweet and languid like honey, began to curl in her stomach at the memory of emotions the Goblin King had evoked in the past, the way his elegant features captured her with their cruel intensity. How the brazen sense of power in his slender frame awakened her body to the desire she had seen in his eyes, heard in his voice. Those dangerously sensuous tones played through her mind causing her pulse to accelerate, even as her instinct warned her to stay as far away as she could. At least for now.

Watching Jareth from the corner of her eye, Sarah steadily made her way around the walls of books and various objects Bruce had stacked inside. "What are you doing in here?" she asked him, trying to sound calm.

His cool glance skimmed through her flushed cheeks. "I merely wanted to see how our proprietor bides his time," he replied with his old arrogance.

Directly across from her was a grand piano and just behind that in between two book cases was an enormous grandfather clock. Different hues of light from Jareth's studded coat glimmered across her face as she passed through the room, tracing her fingers absently against everything Bruce had in his study. Jareth watched her like prey, studying her silently as she moved throughout the room. He placed his forearms on top of the grand piano lazily and watched her. It seemed like he was waiting for her to find something he hid away.

"By the by," he said idly. "I have mentioned this before but I feel I should again." Sarah stopped in front of the piano and locked eyes with him. "I wanted to thank you for bringing me back into your world. Before that I could only be seen or heard by you. Now I am free to come and go and be seen by as many as I please."

She could feel a scowl growing on her face, and against her judgment, a slight pout. "Can I ask how?"

Jareth leaned down resting his arms on the top of the piano and placed a finger over his smiling lips. His eyes never left hers. "Salome's kiss," he replied impishly. "I always knew you had it in you to become a channel to another reality. It's a magic all its own. All I had to do was give you a little push to bring you to your true potential."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course. You used me."

Jareth's mouth turned into a mockery of Sarah's faint pout. "Sarah, angel, do you really ever do what I tell you to? Your constant defiance of me has only brought me closer to _you_. However," he spoke low and smoothly now, "I do still think that you're too good for this world, and always will be."

A chill went through her. "So now you're free to do whatever you want?"

"You know I cannot interfere with this world. I can only concern myself with you."

She frowned, confused. "But the party… my friends saw you!"

"Ah," he rose to his full height again, "but I was never the Goblin King. I was an entertainer."

Sarah uncrossed her arms and looked down. So he was. He could have been both.

She ran her fingers over the ivory keys then pushed her fingers over them slightly, hitting childish notes absently. Something next to her moved. She looked up and stared as the bookcase next to her swung open.

Both her and Jareth remained still for a moment until Sarah gathered her courage and went to the opening of a secret passageway. A cold draft blew in from the dark and caught Sarah's breath. She stood at the entrance of a dark tunnel, flanked by two polished columns. It was silent, unnervingly so. The only sound was the groan of Jareth's heavy coat as he rested his arm above his head on the concrete column. He leaned forward and looked down, his aquiline nose scrunching just briefly - the air did smell musty and dank from here.

Sarah stared into the darkness, taking in the situation. She trembled from both fear and excitement. She was on the brink of discovering a tremendous secret – a secret Bruce obviously didn't want anyone to know about.

Curiosity overtaking sensibility, Sarah glanced over at Jareth. Her voice quivered. "What do you think is down there?"

"Let's find out," he said, pushing himself from the column and holding his hand out to her. Sarah hesitated and clutched the edge of the bookcase. "Come, I don't think there is anything to fear."

"I want to go by myself," she finally said. Something inside told her she had to do this on her own.

His shook his head in a scolding manner. "Sweeting, I'm hurt. Don't you trust me?"

His gently mocking tone dispelled some of her awkwardness, enough to straighten her spine and strengthen her voice. "You said yourself there is nothing to fear. I want to go alone."

He threw his hand up in disappointment, but ultimately complied with her wishes. She looked ahead and proceeded forward. But Jareth suddenly grabbed her wrist and held tight.

Sarah turned and lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. They exchanged a glance. She couldn't help but notice that regardless of her outright refusal, he seemed to be properly impressed by her decision to go alone. He grinned at her, barely showing his white fangs, and let her go into the abyss.

Sarah drew a deep breath, her natural stubbornness taking over, then pushed deeper into the tunnel. The space widened around her, but she felt it rather than saw it. Sarah stepped through and began to descend a polished stone staircase. The light from the study was enough for her to see the doors of an elevator with only one button.

She could go back now. She was sure Jareth was still there waiting for her. But what would he think if he found out she didn't have the courage to go on? He would have been disappointed, and that would never do. Taking a deep breath and focusing her thoughts and energy in her surroundings, she began to search for anything that might bring her harm.

She could feel nothing hostile or evil down wherever the elevator might take her. She reached out and put her finger on its smooth surface. She flicked her eyes over the doors again and pressed the metal button firmly. The doors immediately opened and she stepped inside the empty elevator. Again there was only button. She hoped it wouldn't take her too far down. She pressed it and the doors closed in front of her. To her surprise, it only seemed to take her about a floor down before they opened to another set of glass doors.

She braced herself against the back of the elevator and didn't move for a few minutes. Whatever lay beyond the glass doors was enshrouded in darkness. Even though nothing was here to bring her harm, she could still feel a strong sense of foreboding. Finally, she stepped out and stopped a few feet from the glass doorway. She bent over to glance inside for a better look but it was too dark to see anything.

Adjacent to the doors was a numeric pad door lock with a biometric hand scanner just above it.

Sarah's lips twitched. This might have been a dead end.

If this had been the Labyrinth, then experience would have been on Sarah's side, and would know better than to let a creature of the Underground block her path. She knew that if defiance didn't work then she could always outsmart them; and Sarah was very certain of her own intelligence.

But she was up against the Prince of Gotham. A man who had enough intelligence and money to control half of the world. She was just a smart, pretty girl he felt sorry for. There were no rules to play this game with.

Sarah sighed and was about to turn away but she felt a tug at her neck. Like something reached up and pulled at her diamond, hard. She reached into her shirt and pulled out her chain, the diamond nestled protectively in her palm. It felt warm, almost hot in her hand as it glimmered in the light. One flicker of white light radiated from the diamond's depth and created a burst of prismatic colors throughout the dark space.

The keypad next to her emitted a series of small beeps and a tiny click came from the glass doors before they opened before her.

Sarah stared at the doors in disbelief at her incredible fortune. Of course, nothing could have compared to the power within her diamond. She gently tucked it back into shirt, the colors fading away into nothingness.

"_Thank you."_

Carefully stepping through the open doorway, Sarah felt her way along a smooth, cold wall, knowing that there had to be a light switch somewhere. Her hand hit what felt like another round button that seemed like it clicked into place. She pushed it and waited for the lights to bring the secret room to life. She slowly walked further into the vault, gazing up as her mouth fell open in awe.

It was small, with nothing on its black walls. Long tables with stacks of papers and folders were positioned on the opposing wall; one giant, black armchair was placed in front of a table, turned so that the last person who sat in it left abruptly. The object that seemed of greatest significance was something she could only describe as being a metal armoire in the center of the vault.

Sarah diverted her attention away for now and surveyed the rest of the vault. Her feet silently touched the ground as she moved steadily amid the papers and files. Among them, Sarah was perplexed to see a mass of computers, gadgets, and equipment that she imagined would rival the FBI or even Interpol. Everything here was highly-equipped as a sort of subterranean headquarters.

She flipped on another light and stepped closer, inspecting everything that was laid out in the open. What did Bruce do down here? Did he work for the government? Or was he a spy for another?

Anxiety took over Sarah's emotions as she approached all of the mysterious objects. She took them all in with wonder as she carefully inspected each one. Tiny communicators, penlights, jumplines, cuffs, binoculars, kits, and compact gas masks – but to her surprise, no guns. Her conscience was beating her over the head as she made her way down the long tables. She stopped and her hand trembled as she reached for a metal object in the shape of a bat. She had seen something like this before…

Sarah dropped it among the other 'batarangs' and their metallic clinks seemed to resound throughout the whole of the vault. Sarah shivered and quickly turned away. The realization was starting to dawn on her. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together…

She slowly made her back to the metal armoire. It seemed locked tight. She had already gotten this far. She flipped the lever up and it effortlessly slid open, the panels moving to reveal the inside. Standing before her was a phantom, black eyes staring right back at her. It wasn't the suit that Sarah had seen before. There was an empty space next to this one that seemed to hold something similar. This looked like advanced infantry with hardened plates over what looked like a weaved suit. Double edged scallops donned the gauntlets. The cowl was a separate piece that seemed more like a helmet than what she had seen before. A symbol of a bat with its wings outspread was branded on the chest. Her suspicions were confirmed.

"Oh, my god…"

She gasped and took a step back, her eyes going wide, hand flying to her throat. In her shock, she lost her balance and her knee hit the side of the long, metal table. An unsteady gadget had fallen from its place and crashed among the others, making a considerable and echoing noise. Sarah squirmed and clenched her teeth. "Shhhhhit…" she hissed. If this were any ordinary room, she was sure someone would have heard that. But she was at least three floors down from the penthouse surrounded by what seemed like sound-proof walls.

She looked back and stared at the empty space in the box. _"He's probably wearing the other one right now…"_

Bruce was indeed the Batman. She had been living with a vigilante this whole time. Not just a vigilante, but someone who was thought to be an urban myth, a shadow, a terrifying creature who was not afraid of the dark.

A thought suddenly struck her. There was a reason Bruce wanted his identity kept secret, just like Clark wanted his kept too. Not only were people he cared about in danger but if anyone were to find out, he could be tried on criminal charges. Bruce had a lot more to lose than Clark did. There was bound to be someone out there who didn't want the Batman around Gotham City or anyplace else for that matter. Namely the crime bosses who wanted their city back. Who wanted her…

Sarah cringed horribly. If she told Bruce she knew everything then there was no telling what he might do. He might turn her out in the street and leave her to die for all he cared. But Sarah also knew that it was not in his character to do that. Especially if he was the unofficial sentinel of Gotham now. But maybe they could work out a deal. A bit of freedom in exchange for her silence. She was almost positive it could work. She had, after all, dealt with something like this before. Not that she would ever mention anything, however.

She had her leverage now. She was ready to leave.

She flipped the lever back into place and the empty suit disappeared behind the panels. As she was walking back, she saw something out of place – a _well_ organized stack of papers. She decided to take a quick peek since she recognized a black folder she had once seen on Bruce's desk. She remembered it had the first article written about Superman in it.

Sarah flipped the folder open…

* * *

Two hours passed, and she was still in Bruce's secret vault. Sarah dug her finger nails into her scalp and exhaled deeply, fighting tears of exhaustion, and betrayal. She could believe that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. She could believe that because somehow she had always suspected. But she could not believe what was in front of her – newspaper articles; hundreds of them, all about Superman. His interviews, his rescues, General Zod, the disappearance, a young woman…

Her.

The two articles that were labeled 'priority' were laminated. They were small compared to others because there were so many reports of Superman. The first read:

**'Superman Crash Lands in Metropolis'** – _Superman crashed into the asphalt of Seventh Avenue in Metropolis yesterday evening. He was seen holding an unidentified woman in her early twenties. Eyewitnesses say Superman fell from the sky while holding the young woman and landed in the middle of the street on his back, apparently trying to protect the woman from impact. While Superman was unconscious, the woman was pulled away by the crowd. After several minutes, Superman managed to recover, found the woman in the crowd, and flew away with her. Superman was later seen in good health a few days afterward. The young woman was described as being 5'7" and had long, black hair. The identity and the whereabouts of the young woman are unknown._

And the second read:

**'Superman Saves Small Town'** – _Vienna Downs, New York. A four-story apartment building caught on fire last night due to several gas leaks. Superman arrived just in time to save everyone in the building by grouping them on the roof, then lifting the roof itself from the building and placing everyone safely away from the fire, which he then proceeded to put out. Superman declined to comment any further on the accident and his heroism, but was, however, seen with a local resident identified as Sarah Williams. Superman may have known Williams because of her recent studies at the Metropolis Acting Academy. Superman is frequently seen in the Metropolis area. However, both Williams and her family have denied any association with Superman._

Hate wasn't even close to what she was feeling for Bruce now. Everything that was conflicting inside of her for the past few months now boiled down to absolute revulsion. But around that, humiliation, betrayal, anger – all were raging inside her like a cyclone.

From all the papers Sarah skimmed through, she deduced that Wayne Electronics was a large conglomerate that manufactured portable radios, stereo and Hi-Fi systems, cameras, and electronics, scanners, surveillance equipment, and computers. The branches of the business included information technology, wired networks, wireless networks and space exploration systems and satellites. There were sheets of bar graphs, pie charts, inconclusive experiments, satellite charts, and star maps. The words that filled her mind over and over again had been highlighted on every paper: Krypton, red sun, molecular density, Metropolis, north, meteorites, impenetrable. Four words were written at the bottom of the last page: _'Kryptonite will kill him.'_

And there was another stack of papers - The Thomas Wayne Foundation. Bruce's father started the foundation for medicine and medical help. It gave annual awards for medical breakthroughs and lifelong commitments. It funded and ran dozens of free clinics all over the city. Everything in this stack were papers filled with medical reports, test results, and lab worksheets. All the test samples logged into the sheets came from Metropolis.

But the worst of it was a small stack of folders placed underneath the articles. Her family records. What her father and Karen did for a living, where they lived, where Toby went to school, where Sarah had been living and working, and even the whereabouts of her mother. Sarah wasn't surprised to see Los Angeles listed as her current residence. All of the records had gone as far back as twenty years ago.

Bruce, or rather Batman, was trying to find Superman, and he was using her. The Batman was going to use Superman for experiments to somehow use his DNA for medicinal reasons, no doubt at a profit. Moreover, it seemed Bruce was going to attempt to transfer Superman's powers to himself. Sarah could just hear Bruce's poor excuse – _'my war against crime in Gotham. It would give me the upper hand.'_

Bruce would have never gone to Superman for help directly, even if he were here. For one, Bruce had too much pride. In some respects, Gotham was too far gone and trying to take it back would have taken Superman years – even for him. In a sense, Batman was born and raised here. Gotham City made him the way he was. This was most definitely Batman's territory and he worked much differently than Superman did.

Gotham City was much different in Metropolis, even in the respects of their sentries. There was a level Superman didn't dare lower himself to, whereas the Batman took any means necessary to achieve his goals.

"_He never wanted me,"_ Sarah thought miserably, _"he was only using me."_

Sarah grabbed every file and folder she could get her hands on, virtually out of reflex, not thinking what she would do with them all. As long as they were out of Bruce's hands. Gripping the files firmly to her chest, Sarah swung around to glance at the locked coffer that held his suit. She scowled in disgust before she rushed out and left the secret chamber behind her.

She took the elevator back up and hurried up the steps. No one was inside Bruce's study and Sarah didn't think Bruce would return until much later, maybe even in the early morning. The lights had been turned off inside in the hallway and the rest of the penthouse was silent. Somehow, Alfred had missed checking on the study. But of course, there was always Jareth.

She fumed silently as she crept back to her room. Jareth knew this whole time and he never told her.

"_Maybe he wanted me to find out for myself." _She locked her bedroom door and dumped the papers on her bed. She pushed away the stained glass fireplace screen and turned the gas on. "_He always knew I had my suspicions about Bruce, and this was the only way." _She pushed in the ignitor switch and the fireplace flared to life. _"He believed in me."_ She gathered all of the papers and folders, except the laminated articles, to her. _"He always did."_ And she threw them into the fire.

Exhausted mentally and physically, Sarah sagged to her knees and watched the papers burn. She felt satisfaction sweep through her, but this was no triumph; what would Bruce do to her now if he found out? Knowing he was Batman was enough, but to have destroyed everything he worked so obsessively over was more than she dared to think about.

"These will not burn so nicely."

Sarah looked up at Jareth. He was holding the two laminated articles.

"Well," she said coldly, "can't you do something about that?"

Jareth's eyes narrowed as he smiled thinly. The articles suddenly burst into a purple flame at the bottom and scorched upward until there was nothing left. "There," he wiggled his fingers as if he had dust on them.

"Now what?" she seemed to be asking the fire more than she was Jareth.

Jareth shrugged. "I've said before that he's a complicated man." He rested his arm on the mantelpiece and stared at the burning papers with her. "Who knows what he will do?" Jareth turned his head to her, staring at her hard until she looked back up at him. "He won't hurt you."

When he looked at her and spoke to her like this, with such intensity, as if the very air sparked around him, always undid her. She looked up at his eyes that were locked on hers, they glittered, beautifully primeval in the fire light. One dark eye and one light smoldering together in the dark. Eerily striking; a fallen angel illuminated from the dark, haloed in gold before her.

Sarah's chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. He was divine, and she was just a girl only becoming a woman. But she was quickly accepting the fact that she wouldn't have it any other way.

"_There is so much to me than just a face,"_ she told herself inwardly. _"Look at what I've just done..."_

A thought occurred to her – she could have him now. She was almost certain he would accept, and gladly. One word and her whole world would be undone. She reluctantly turned back to the fire, the papers now just ash beneath the flames. She could reach out a hand right now and have either the greatest experience or make the worst mistake of her life.

She chose to wait. It would happen sooner or later. But now was not the time.

Her eyes were becoming heavy as she felt a strange sort of calm overcome her. Sarah lay back and prepared to doze off in front of the fire. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She would sleep now and return to work in the morning. The thought made her heart leap in excitement. She honestly couldn't wait to get out of this place now more than ever.

Jareth gazed down at her. He brushed a hand over her in the air and she felt herself being lifted onto something soft and warm. She looked up and saw a blanket covering her body.

"You might have clawed my eyes out if I tried carrying you to bed."

Sarah frowned at the coldness in his voice. "Yes," she murmured tiredly, "I would have."

A soft smile touched her lips. Sarah sighed in return for Jareth's soft kiss.

* * *

She was so cold. So cold it was painful. She opened her eyes to limitless black. She was lying on her stomach, freezing air on her skin. She lay on the cold floor, and the silence that surrounded her was almost unfathomable. She lifted her head slowly, and braced her hands underneath her, slowly lifting herself up to her feet. She slowly realized that she was placed in a massive, subterranean cavern; a vast expanse of limestone and dirt beneath her.

More icy air blew into her face as she gazed up and around her in wonder. It was dark, but it was also strangely beautiful. It vaguely reminded her of the Underground. Stalactites and stalagmites dripped down and reached for each other like black frozen molasses, some even did touch and coagulated into bizarre formations.

She found a small river of water running next to her and followed it to the source. The water eventually disappeared under black rocks but she stepped over them as the howl of water became louder. Sarah finally stopped at the roaring waterfall that came tumbling down into the cave. She grinned like a child as she hopped along slick rocks right up to the beautiful curtain of water. Mesmerized, she reached for the liquid light. The cold water fell over her hand and splashed unto her arm like pinpoints of ice. The hair on her arm stood from the chilling sensation. She drew her hand away and shook it fiercely, trying to get warm blood to flow through again.

She carefully made her way back down onto safe ground again. Where was she? It was so cold yet so beautiful in here. She didn't think anything would be as grand or breathtaking as the Fortress in the north. But this was. It was stunning in its dark profundity, a fathomless chamber of secrets old and new; completely pure of man's touch.

She felt the emptiness of this place fill her up with its enormity – she felt so insignificant in such an enormous place.

But she suddenly froze when she heard squealing above her. She looked up at the jagged ceiling, far above, which as Sarah peered, started to move…

And she saw that the ceiling was covered in bats before they exploded from the darkness, filling the air. She screamed and instinctively crouched against their flapping, squawking, and fluttering blackness. Thousands descended, screeching, swarming around her terrifyingly for a moment before dispersing through the dark crevice into the night.

Sarah peeked through her hands and rose to her feet slowly, watching the fluttering blackness fly away from her. She felt the briefest of chills as the remaining few brushed their wings against her skin; it felt almost like an acknowledgment from them.

She backed away carefully, her eyes searching the shadows for any remaining bats. A warm sigh breathed down her neck. Sarah whipped around and came face to face with the Batman, upside down. She screamed again before she was engulfed by darkness…

* * *

**AN: **thank you to Greeneyedbabe, Codegreen, and cassie for their encouragement =)))

Shalom y Amor


	25. To Dwell Within

Jareth waited until Sarah was fast asleep. He slipped out of her room and changed into his owl form, soaring through night-lit skyscrapers and over the gritty streets of Gotham. Even Jareth had to admit that he much preferred to be back in Metropolis or even in Sarah's hometown. There were some parts of the city that could have been a dead ringer for his own Goblin City. He thought it amusing, and yet disturbing that humans should sink so low.

He rose up to one of the highest skyscrapers in the city. What a sight for someone to see an owl in the city fly this high. He transformed back into the Goblin King, his black cloak whipping around him like a ship's sail, and stepped onto the highest ledge from mid-air. He was just below the point where the top of the building began to narrow and stretch up into the tower.

Jareth circled his wrist and brought a crystal to eye level. He stared into its depths until he could see Sarah sleeping fitfully inside.

He lips twitched into a faint smile.

Finally. Finally she knew the truth. She always knew, but there was that little problem of attraction that left her blinded – but only for so long. He had to admit that Bruce put on quite a charade. He was probably the most intelligent human being he had ever come across, and Jareth had been around for a very long time. Nevertheless, he deceived Sarah in more ways than one. Jareth begrudgingly appreciated the fact that Bruce kept Sarah safe when he could not do so himself due to her dislike of him - not to mention other forces at work. But he silently applauded Bruce for attempting to hunt down Superman. A feat not easily done. Even for him.

But to subject his Sarah to this kind of humiliation – it was unacceptable.

Jareth's eyes flicked up and narrowed instantly. Speak of the devil.

He crouched down, his cloak flapping wildly around him as he watched the Batman carefully. Batman stood on a high ledge several buildings across and below from where Jareth lingered. Batman's hand was pressed up to his cowl, listening with one of his million dollar earpieces. Jareth rested his arm on a propped knee and heard everything Batman did.

From the babble of a myriad of radio calls going out over the ether, a voice emerged:

"_Your name, sir. Please state."_

"_Robert Lyons. I'm calling to file a missing persons…"_ the call was cut short by a sob, _"my daughter, Lori Lyons…"_

Jareth saw Batman hang his head, then swiftly disappear back into the shadows.

The Goblin King rose to his full height once again and glared at the spot Batman once occupied. He could help. In fact, he would be more than willing to. If he could. But those were the rules – he could only protect Sarah. It was a rule not made by a being of his kind; it simply was what it was, the one whom you are connected to in this world is the one who receives the collateral. Although for Sarah it was seen as collateral damage. He smiled in a sad, scornful way; half amused and half wounded at the thought.

A black, slithering mass came up behind Jareth and blinked their hundreds of yellow eyes over him. They hissed low in his ear, _"Sshe is clossse. Take care or she will become like them."_

Jareth didn't flinch but he scowled openly. "This Batman never lets her out of his sights. Even if she left his walls he would hunt her down and find her in a matter of hours. No, she is safe."

"_In another man's armsss…"_

"She cares nothing for him."

"_Doesn't ssshe? Ssshe grows restless, our King. Ssshe will find essscape sssoon."_

"Indeed. She has more power than we give her credit for. She brought me back into this world fully, did she not?"

"_And ssshe could ssstill take you out. What will you do?"_

Jareth's head twitched, an idea coming to him. "If I were to make a sanctuary for her, without crossing the boundaries of our worlds, would she be safe enough?"

"_Ssshe would ssstill be a prisssoner." _

"She has nowhere else to go. If I could only obliterate them all myself this whole absurdity would end."

"_Ah, remember, your powersss are ussselesss unlesss ssshe asssksss for it."_

"Yes, you've made sure of that. More so than necessary."

"_We could alwaysss eassse you of thisss burden."_

"You don't have the strength."

"_The darker your desssperation growsss, the more powerful we become. We revel in your dessspair. We are of the dark, as you ssshould alssso be. It isss your true nature as our King. But we would not lie… we would take great pleasssure in a Queen. Bring her into thisss darknesss with usss. If you dare…"_

"Leave me."

"_Asss you wisssh. Make your sssanctuary. Perhapsss ssshe will come to love you yet, Goblin King."_

Their razor-sharp laughter lingered long after they had disappeared.

* * *

He rewound each video and watched each one again carefully – this was the sixth time. If it took all night, or even well into the next day, he would find out what happened to all of his research.

Bruce narrowed his eyes and stared at the black and white screen, watching for anything out of order; a flash, a skip, static, anything. But all he saw was Sarah entering his study at 00:06:34, stick her head in for a quick peek, and leave again at 00:06:40. In the vault, his papers, files, folders that he worked like a madman over for months was on the gray desk at 02:34:26 and at 02:34:27 they just disappeared. No skip, no flash, no movement of any kind – they were simply gone.

Even with his skills, his strength, his intelligence; it would have been physically impossible for all of that to disappear in less than a nano-second. The tapes had not been tampered with, no fingerprints were found anywhere in the vault, and there had been no recorded use of the numeric pad. It didn't make any sense. Where did all of his files go? Who had been able to not only find the secret passageway, but to get past his motion sensors and security codes?

Bruce watched the tape of Sarah again. Her head peeks through…

"The piano," he whispered, springing out of his chair. He grabbed a kit from a nearby shelf and rushed out of his vault.

He took the elevator back up to his penthouse and ran up the stairs to his study. He stopped and crouched in front of the grand piano. Carefully, he used his kit for identifying fingertips on the exact white keys that opened the secret passage. Satisfied he had the full sample, he rushed back down to the vault. Bruce placed the sample onto a small screen on his desk which then magnified onto a computer screen in front of him. The computer scanned the prints several times until three exact matches were found – Bruce Anthony Wayne, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth, and Sarah Anne Williams.

* * *

Sarah smiled softly to herself as she brushed a stray hair from her face. Two days had passed and no sign of Bruce, whatsoever. She had been afraid at first at what he might do if somehow he caught her through one of his high-tech cameras. However, it had dawned on her yesterday morning that with a Goblin King on her side, Bruce was at a total loss. Superman was no match for him, what made the Batman any different?

Her smile became even wider when she stepped out of the back door of the green room and looked up at the air beginning to shimmer with sun showers. Sarah tilted her head back and inhaled deeply before she nearly skipped toward Alfred's black car. She wanted so badly to walk in the light rain while the sun beamed through half of the sky. She wanted to taste the raindrops and feel the warm sun on her skin as she walked through the city. Maybe buy a treat for herself from a street vendor and sit in a nearby park or watch the wind blow through the water that streamed down from Buckingham Fountain – one of the grandest fountains in the world.

Strange how no one truly appreciates what they have right in front of them until it's too late. Time passes by so quickly that no one sees the change that comes with it. Sarah was ecstatic and admittedly nervous about the change that was coming. It was like coming back home from a long trip overseas and she was preparing herself for the inevitable culture shock.

Alfred pulled around the corner and pressed a button above the rearview mirror. The door to Bruce's underground garage opened and Alfred pulled inside, just like any ordinary day would have gone. But today was different.

Sarah stepped out of the car when Alfred opened the door for her. She looked behind her at the row of cars Bruce had acquired over the years. The Mercedes, the Ferrari, the Bugatti, the Rolls-Royce, the Aston Martin, and his Lamborghini Reventon. The Lamborghini was the car he took the most care of. Maybe because it was the fastest.

But it didn't matter for her anymore. She turned away with a shrug and followed Alfred to the elevator that would take them all the way up to the penthouse. Alfred asked her the usual questions – How did rehearsal go? What would you like for dinner? Anything from the library? Perhaps a movie?

Sarah answered back as usual, but she tried to hide a secret smile under a ducked head. Alfred took it as exhaustion. But Sarah was very far from it.

The door finally opened to soaring downtown views through the vast penthouse. She didn't linger to look at the scene. She had seen it too many times.

Sarah flew into her room and packed up what was left. She would leave with nearly half as much but walking out that door with the promise of freedom was worth more to her than any of her possessions. Except of course for her diamond and the white feather she still kept in a little cedar box.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, fully expecting Alfred to be in the kitchen. He wouldn't notice she was gone until she was halfway down the street. If she had any trouble leaving the building, she had her diamond to help her, it had done so before. If that failed, her wits had served her well before too. It wouldn't take her long to get to Krista's. Her door was always open to Sarah.

Sarah left the bedroom without a backwards glance. She hurried down the hall, rounded the corner, and suddenly stopped short. Out of all the things she had planned or expected, she had never anticipated the most obvious.

Bruce was standing between her and the elevator door. His hands placed into his pockets, his lips pursed and his chin lifted high. He was dressed in one of his business suits. Handsome, powerful, and enormously dangerous. Sarah's heart dropped at the darkness that surrounded him now.

"Going somewhere?" he asked her in a cold and quiet voice.

"Yes," she answered steadfastly. "I'm going home."

"I don't think you'll get very far." He stalked toward her. "Especially if someone's looking for you." He stopped just in front of her, staring down. "Someone like me."

"I'm not afraid of you," she paused for a moment, glaring at him. Her voice was deep with icy defiance when she said, "Batman."

Bruce stood stock still. Not even a blink of his eyes.

This only enraged Sarah further. "What the hell were you thinking bringing me here?" She snapped angrily. "That you'd get something out of it? That you'd get me in bed so easily!"

Now his eyes narrowed. They began to glint, change into someone else's entirely. A black abyss. "Isn't this good enough for you?" He rasped in a dangerously low voice, "I have tried my _hardest_ to make you happy here. Isn't there _anything_ good enough for you?"

"Don't turn this around on me!" Sarah stepped forward even closer, fighting the urge to strike him hard across the face. "I had to leave my life behind because of _you_. I have no fucking freedom because of _you_! You went behind my back and lied to me too many times! And for what?" She paused again, considering him, looking him up and down. Yes, she had to say it. "You thought you could kill him, didn't you?"

Bruce's face became slack, his eyebrows starting to draw together. But Sarah couldn't stop. Too much anger and disappointment had grown inside of her for too long. "You thought you could find him and use me as bait to bring him back?" Bruce's breathing became heavier. Even she could see she was taking it too far, but she couldn't stop the screaming torrent that came from her mouth. "I can't even express an opinion in case I fucking upset you! I'm not a pawn, I'm not another one of your stupid whores! I've had enough of this! I _hate _it here! _I HATE IT_!"

Bruce suddenly lunged. Sarah shrieked when he grabbed her arms and twisted them back behind her. His face darkened as he pulled her to him roughly, sensing she could try and knee him, he shoved his own knee in between her legs. She gasped at the contact, but she would not be intimidated by him; she lifted her chin defiantly, matching her emerald eyes with his obsidians.

Without releasing his tight grip on her arms, he brushed one free hand on her neck. Sarah immediately writhed within his grasp, but he held her firmly, tracing his finger along her silver chain and twisting it upwards, pulling her diamond out of her blouse. Sarah froze at the look in his eye when he fixed his gaze on the glittering crystal diamond – the only one of its kind.

"Where did you get this?" His rough voice was deathly quiet. She could feel his breath on her neck. But she stood her ground and waited for him to speak again. "You wear it like it was a piece of your own body. And because even Maroni couldn't afford something like this."

She took a few breaths of air before she hissed, "I didn't steal it if that's what you mean."

"It's not what I mean," he murmured, still gazing into it. "How did you find it?" he finally brought his eyes back up to hers. "My little hideout."

She struggled again, but stopped just as quickly when she felt his grip become even tighter. "Does it matter now? I know everything, Bruce." She would not dare lower her eyes to him now. "I know what you do at night. I know about your project, your research… you used me. Nothing you could ever do to me will make me tell you anything."

His fingers around her chain became tight and it felt like he might pull her further into him. But he suddenly released her and let the diamond drop back to her chest.

Sarah immediately shoved her diamond back into her blouse, backing away from him. "I was an idiot to actually _believe_ you were a decent person. You're still a cruel, cold, selfish bastard. You always will be and nothing will change that!"

Bruce glared back at her, his eyes still blazing horribly. He said nothing. And maybe Sarah had said too much.

"_But what's said is said."_

She had heard those words before, and she sobbed aloud, clutching her stomach; suddenly feeling immensely foolish and guilty. After everything he had ever gone through, after everything he had done for her… was it enough to erase the wrong he had done _to_ her?

No. For her, it wasn't enough. Bruce had made the wrong choice trying to use her.

"I can't do this anymore," she said breathlessly, turning away. "I can't stay here." She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She stumbled to the elevator door and leaned into the wall, pushing down on the button. "Really wish you had a door right about now," she murmured.

Bruce finally spoke, his voice still coarse. "You're not leaving, Sarah."

"Yes, I am," she nodded her head vigorously. I'm leaving this city, I'm leaving the state… I want to go home…" She spoke now from her heart, not her head. She really did want to go home and never step foot in this city again. This confrontation with Bruce had been too much for her to bear.

It sounded like Bruce had to suppress a growl. "And from there they'll find you and your family. You'd be putting them all in danger if you go to them now."

She rounded on him again, her teeth nearly bared. "I have been locked up in here for weeks and I am going insane because of it! I need to be outside again, Bruce." She opened and closed her mouth, begging, hoping he could understand what was raging inside of her. "I need to be with people and with my friends and I need to see my family. If I don't get out of here soon I don't know what I'll do to myself." Her last words were a mere whisper as her eyes began to fill with real tears. "Can't you understand that?"

Sarah had never seen anyone so focused, so silent, and powerful while fury blazed around him like a typhoon. It swirled around him in reds and midnight blacks. And he was controlling it like a master with his hounds of hell.

The elevator door opened.

Without another word, Sarah re-adjusted her bag on her shoulder and began to step toward the elevator. She didn't even see Bruce come up behind her until it was too late.

He grabbed her arm and viciously pulled her away. Sarah's eyes went wide as she whipped her head around and screamed. "Bruce!"

With almost unnatural strength, Bruce began to haul her back into the penthouse. Sarah dropped her bag and clawed at his hand, nearly baring her teeth. "No!" she screamed again, louder. "Let me go!"

Bruce didn't respond. His grip was powerful, painfully so as he continued to drag her across the floor of the penthouse and back into one of the long hallways.

Sarah kept screaming in panic, in terror. "Bruce, stop! Stop!" Still no response, not even when Sarah began to throw punches to his arms and to his head. Bruce barely raised a brow. "Alfred," she cried out, "Alfred!" Her voice rose to an unbearable pitch as she tried to grab onto a doorframe or corner, but Bruce only yanked her even harder when she did.

Finally, Alfred came rounding around the corner, gasping with shock at what he saw. "What in the devil's name is going on?" He chased them down the hallways. "Sarah? Sarah!"

Through her screams, Sarah heard Alfred pleading with Bruce to let her go, but it was useless, Bruce was blinded by rage – and a little bit of fear. Sarah struggled against Bruce like a demon, her screams piercing the air. He still had Sarah in his iron grip as he thrust a door open and shoved her inside a large room.

"_NO!"_

Sarah was thrown inside with a brutal shove. She threw herself against the door as it slammed in front of her. She banged on the door with her fists. "Let me out!" She heard something click. "No! Let me outta here, you can't do this to me!" She tried the door handle, and found it was locked from the outside. "BRUCE!"

She screamed and banged on the door, nearly throwing herself against it. But Bruce calmly turned to Alfred and looked him square in the eye.

"Under no circumstances are you to open this door."

Alfred was completely beside himself. "M-master Bruce," he stammered, "you can't do this! This has gone too far."

"She _knows_, Alfred. She knows everything."

Alfred's jaw dropped. "Everything, sir?"

"Somehow she found the vault under the study. She burned every file I had on him. Everything is gone."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. I'll think of something." He glanced at the door then back to Alfred. Sarah was still screaming and thrashing inside. "I know I can't keep her in there forever."

* * *

Sarah screamed and beat on the door until her throat and fists became raw. She kicked as hard as she could, shrieking, but it was no use. This door had to be five inches thick. She whirled around, looking for something in the room to bust the doorknob with. In her panic, the only thing she could grab was a drawer from the desk cabinet. She wrenched the drawer out and pounded on the doorknob with it. But after a few tries it was the drawer that started to break, the doorknob didn't move.

She threw away the drawer and with a great, wrenching sob, Sarah crumpled to the floor and covered her mouth with her hands. Her breast heaving with the effort to breathe, she coughed and sputtered her tears of fear and frustration. The enormity of the situation, of what she had done, of what Bruce could do to her overwhelmed her, and without another thought, she frantically began to call Jareth's name. She called for him blindly, her mind's eye utterly filled with his image.

Sarah's tears dripped onto the floor as called his name over and over again, but he did not come. She screamed his name until her voice shrank to a mere rasp, until her eyes became blind with tears. She called and cried until she became too weak to hold herself up. She finally collapsed down completely on the floor, staring out over nothing and everything.

This was supposed to be her day of freedom, of regaining her life. But now, matters were much worse. Bruce had resorted to imprisoning her in one room. Today, she found out how brutal and corrupt he really was. He was no different than the lowly criminals that infested this Godforsaken city. Silence and darkness fell over the penthouse.

Bruce and Alfred were long gone.

Hours later; she was still on the floor and heard a faint creak of leather.

Gloved hands, softer than she was expecting, touched her face, a long strand of hair, her bare arm. "Sarah…" his voice was quiet. Sarah heard, rather than saw, Jareth kneel, his face swimming into focus through her painfully swollen eyes. He gazed down at her, beneath the gold fall of his hair. His face held pity and something else… disappointment?

Jareth's low tones fell softly on her. "What do you wish of me?" he whispered. "Your freedom?" His lips were inches from her ear, his head bent so low that his long hair nearly shielded his face.

"Take me away from here!" Sarah rasped, bringing herself closer to him. "I need to get out! Please!"

Jareth bent close to her and murmured, "Do you know what you ask of me?"

Sarah froze and stared up at him. Even now, when she was at her most desperate, her most vulnerable, he would ask her this? She tried to find words, through the numbness that was seeping into her flesh, into her bones.

Jareth shifted toward her, and tucked his cloak, neatly, around her right shoulder. He whispered in her ear. "You know what I am, Sarah. Say your right words."

She couldn't move. She could only watch him bend his head, and felt his lips brushing against her ear. Something had changed in Jareth. She could feel it. He seemed hesitant to her now. When he spoke before, there was a slight trace of warning in his voice.

Sarah pulled away and stared at him with her cold, accusing eyes. Jareth stared back until he inhaled sharply and rose again to his full height. He stared down at her, like he would one of his subjects, or even a badly behaved child. Sarah met his look with one of her own. Her look was not confusion, or fear, but rather questioning, what was his game now?

"Truly you have become what you always wanted," He stepped away from her, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to study her surroundings. "A princess in the tower," he mused. "How delightful. And which one of us have you deemed to be the Prince to set you free?" Sarah watched him as he walked around the room, patronizing her with his tone and bearing. "Certainly not the man who has just locked you in here. Or the Batman. Surely he can't be concerned with what Bruce Wayne does with his women, even if the Batman and Bruce Wayne were not the same person. And most definitely not your Superman. He's been long gone for quite some time now." The click clack of his boots rang sharply in Sarah's ears as he walked beside her again. "So that only leaves your shadow, your fallen angel, the one who has been by your side as your admirer… and your enemy."

Sarah stared at him harder, perplexed for a moment. Then her face darkened. He was taunting her. "I will find a way out," she breathed. "With or without your help."

Jareth shook his head at her, smiling in pitying amusement. "Little owl, you've become trapped in an oubliette. There _is_ no way out."

"I don't believe you," she hissed, trembling before him. "I _will_ find a way out."

He moved closer and bent down to her level again. He moved a hand to her face, and brushed her tangled hair from her cheek, revealing her damp, red skin.

Sarah glared up at him. "I called for you," she rasped. "I called for you like you asked and you didn't come."

Jareth was looking at her with such intensity that Sarah almost took back her accusation. His eyes were dark as they seemed to ruthlessly take in every part of her. His face was slowly becoming composed, devoid of any warmth or mirth. He had set in his forced, icy mask of nothingness.

Something had changed in him. It seemed like he was silently warning her about the life she could have if she chose him. He was checking her confidence, her will; it seemed he didn't like what he saw.

Sarah couldn't stand his look anymore. She had every right to act out the way she did. And she let Jareth know that by raising her hand and slapping his cheek, hard. The sharp clap echoed in her ears and she regretted it almost at once. His didn't move but his eyes darkened even further.

"I'm not sure I deserved that," he bit out, barely audible through his clenched teeth.

"_That_," she hissed fiercely, "was long overdue."

Jareth glared at her a few minutes longer until he rose again and started to move away. She began to reach out for him. But then she flinched back, and a sob escaped her lips again as she crumpled back down to the floor. This time she felt alone, utterly alone.

Jareth had left without another word when night finally enshrouded the whole of the city.

Sarah lay still in the dark, waiting for a sound, a breath, or a presence. But nothing came. It wasn't until morning when the sun rose again in the sky that Sarah opened her eyes and found she was still laying face down on the same floor.

She carefully, with a soft groan, pushed herself up and over on her backside. Sitting up, she could see her new surroundings with weary, bloodshot eyes. It was a smaller guest bedroom with a smaller balcony and bathroom, but it wasn't nearly as comfortable or as welcoming as her old one had been. Clearly this room had never been used until now.

Noticing that her bag and a tray of food had been left for her, Sarah crawled over to the door, checking to see if it was still locked. She pulled down on the doorknob but it still wouldn't budge. Fresh, raw sobs came to her again. She halfheartedly beat on the door and in a sudden burst of rage kicked over the tray of food, broken glass and bits of breakfast flying all over the floor. She fought the urge to take the tray and completely trash the room. But what would it solve? How would that make her situation any better? No matter what, she would still be trapped in one hell of a mess she could make. She clutched at her hair and sat up against the door. She felt humiliated, beaten down, but not defeated completely. Because that was what Bruce wanted. He wanted her to break under him, to make her tell every last one of her secrets until there was nothing left.

No. She felt a flame of purpose within her. He would not take her like this. She would not let him drive her to that brink. She would become the immovable object against his unstoppable will. She would become as strong and as powerful as Superman in a sense. No one would break her. No one.

* * *

If there was one good thing about this confinement is that Sarah's senses were once again put into overdrive. As the night passed into day, she became less frantic and much more subdued. She hardly slept, instead she sat on the bed and stared at the wall, trying to quiet as much of her frenetic thoughts as she could. She focused on her breath as she tried to concoct the easiest plan of escape. But everything came up short.

Even if she somehow made a call to the police, she was sure Bruce had somewhat of an influence over them. They would dismiss this as a lover's quarrel. And she certainly didn't want her family to know anything. She would lie to them a thousand times over to keep them from worrying over her.

She sat in silence, the glow from Gotham's magnificent skyline her only light source. But the shadows were everywhere in this room. Sarah felt her chest rise and fall with each breath, she stared ahead into nothing.

She heard gusts of winds, distant cargo boats, traffic horns, the trains, a flap of a bird's wings… and then something different. It was strong, steady, human.

"Spying on me?" she asked the darkness.

The darkness solidified into a long, black pillar with a pair of eyes that glowed a pallid white.

It didn't respond to her. The eyes narrowed into slits when she turned to him without a trace of fear in her.

"Who I am, where I've been, and what I've done… you'll never understand."

Batman's rasping voice gripped her heart. "Then explain it to me until I do."

Sarah turned her head back to face the wall.

"How did you find it?" he asked her, not so gently. "How did you get inside?"

She kept silent.

"I watched the security videos nearly a dozen times. You weren't seen in any of them. But your fingerprints were all over the piano keys that opened the passageway. I _know _you got inside and destroyed those files. _How?_"

His voice had risen to an unbearable rasp, it grated on her ears and gave her chills. But still she said nothing.

Batman stood and watched her for a few agonizingly unnerving moments. Finally, he turned away from her.

"Bruce…"

Something small, unlike her, in her voice stopped him, made him turn. Her eyes – eyes so bright that one could see the golden center – were moist, but no tears were falling. At the sight of a tear, he would walk away without a backward look.

She met his gaze head-on, her eyes wet. "I sensed your presence earlier because I thought I heard your heartbeat. But I was wrong. You have no heart."

He turned and disappeared without a word.

Sarah suddenly leapt to her feet, all the anger and pain that had seethed inside finally rose in her and came spilling from her mouth.

"Goddamn you!" she screamed as loud as she possibly could. "I trusted you! I trusted you! You said you'd never hurt me! Piece of shit liar!" She struck the wall, hard. "_LIAR!_ I'll never tell you anything! You can torture me for all you want, and I'll never tell you anything!" She picked up a vase from a side table and with all her strength threw it across the room where it smashed into a hundred shattered pieces on the floor.

* * *

There were still numerous members of the law in this long, wide alleyway in Coley Square. The crime scene was secure. The CSI team was performing a thorough, untainted search of the area. Several onlookers were still trying to crunch through, but Officer Ramirez waved them aside. The safe area established was just beyond the crime scene, and just beyond that Lieutenant Gordon stood in a dark corner. His men (and Ms. Ramirez) knew not to disturb him – he was most likely conversing with the Batman, and he only spoke to Gordon.

"We found her," Gordon said, his voice tired and his eyes downcast. "Lori Lyons. Same pattern as the other girls. Mid-twenties, dark hair, and usually not recognizable." He suppressed a shudder. "But this time they only cut her throat. And sexually assaulted her."

Batman and Gordon caught glimpses of three young women standing in front of a pink house across the street, their mouths covered by their hands, and eyes overflowing with tears. It was a troubling sight indeed to see a girl their age so brutally murdered just a few feet from their home.

Batman turned away and stared fiercely over at the cadaver. If he weren't so encased by the dark, Gordon would have seen a brief flicker of anguish cross over his eyes. This girl, with her throat slashed, looked just like Sarah. Sprawled against the dirty pavement and in her own blood. Her hair was long and black, her wide eyes green though not nearly as brilliant now, and her skin so white it had become almost transparent. Her chin pointed and her cheeks and jaw that were once so gracefully rounded were already becoming sunken in. Her head was thrown back at a grotesque angle. Open eyes stared unseeing; and her twisted mouth was stretched wide in a silent, terrible cry.

"This will be the last one."

Gordon didn't need to hear Batman swear by this. His word would have to be good enough.

* * *

**AN: **Before I forget - back in June there was an amazing art show in downtown LA showcasing artwork inspired by none other than 'Labyrinth'. What a spectacular show! So much beautiful artwork and the crowd was just awesome! One artist who showcased her work can be found when you google 'the plumed serpent blog'. Wow, what can I say about her piece? (besides super crazy, awesomeness, yay!) If I had continued with the my first storyline then Sarah would have most definitely worn something like this. Oh, and the fabulous pink one that comes up in the header right away - that one's all mine. =)))

Shalom y Amor


	26. Shine for You

**AN: **So I wasn't sure if this was the right direction to go or not. But Casseeinamirror took a look and gave me the go ahead. So if you don't like it, blame her. lol. No really, blame me. The only thing she didn't like was the continuous headbutting between the two. But she's more of a romantic than I am and I may take even longer to get there. In the meantime, try to enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth or Batman. A Christian Bale would be nice, though.

* * *

Sarah sat at the edge of her bed, her muscles tight with tension. Any minute now Alfred would take her tray of food over to her room. It was very early morning, 6 AM, usually she would have been sleeping fitfully and Alfred had been quiet and quick enough to leave the food, slip out, and lock the door behind him again.

But Sarah had a plan this time. She didn't care where she went or how she got there. She only cared about one thing – her freedom. However, this so called plan was sickening to her. How could she bear lifting this brass candlestick and smacking Alfred in the head with it? Would it even knock him out? Would it kill him? She didn't think threatening him with it would do any good. But it was the only way out. It was her absolute last resort.

Light footsteps began to make their way to her room. She grasped the candlestick even tighter. The footsteps stopped at her door. She hid the candlestick behind her, waiting. A jangle of keys and a click in the lock. Her palms were beginning to sweat.

Alfred stepped and seemed taken aback to see her sitting up, fully awake. "Oh, miss," he said quietly, "I didn't think you were up."

Sarah didn't say anything, but stared at him with huge, wretched eyes.

It pained Alfred to see her like this. They had grown so close and now they had to be so emotionally distant from each other. But it seemed that nothing could be done about it. With a deep sigh, Alfred turned and set her usual tray of breakfast down on the far table.

She rose up from the bed silently. The candlestick felt like a ton of bricks in her hand. She looked down and found she could barely lift her arm. She sank back down, realizing she could never commit such an act of violence to Alfred. It went against everything she thought she was and thought she believed in.

Alfred turned to her and froze when he saw what she had in her hand. Neither of them said a word to each other when he came to her side, pried the candlestick from her hand, and set it aside; Sarah simply turned away, too mortified to even look at him.

But Alfred took her hands in his aged ones and knelt down before her. His eyes sparked, but not with anger or blame.

"Do you remember," he said softly, "what I told you before the party? That you would look back and say that you are this person? You are _not_ this person." His voice rose higher, more resolute. "You are above this. You are above all of this." Suddenly, Alfred rose to his feet and went around Sarah's bed, gathering her clothes and necessities. "Master Bruce is away for a conference and won't return until much later this evening, hopefully before dawn. I'll think of something."

Sarah's voice could barely form a whisper. "What?

"I don't know how you got into the vault, but you did. And I don't know how you found those files without being seen in the cameras…" Alfred stopped momentarily, mulling over what he just said. "It doesn't matter." He threw what he picked from her room into her duffle bag and zipped it up. "What's done is done, and if you can break into one of the most secure vaults in the known world then you can certainly get past the security cameras in the lobby."

Sarah rose from the bed, a light coming back into her eyes. "I'll just disappear..."

Alfred dropped her bag at her feet and smiled fondly at her. Something struck him in the heart just then. Something he had to tell her. "If we were still back in England, you would have been called a faerie."

Sarah gave him a simpering look. "I'm just a girl."

He shook his head, still smiling. "I don't believe you. You said yourself you're different. If I were a young boy again I would swear that I'd finally found a girl of the faerie folk." The glimmer of marvel he had for a moment was gone and replaced again with solemnity. "Go straight to the train station. Get out of Gotham as soon as you are able. Go home if you must, but don't stay there. The further away you are the better." Alfred's hands touched her cheeks lightly then descended onto her shoulders. "You're quite the resourceful one. You'll find another life elsewhere, and you'll get on just fine."

"But what if he finds me…" she started to protest.

"Just get as far away from this city as you can," he finished. It didn't matter who she meant to say. Now, Maroni and Bruce would be looking for her. It unnerved Sarah to fear Bruce over a crime boss.

Alfred's hands slid from her shoulders to her hands and he clasped them both between their bodies before he leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss upon her worried brow. "You'll be alright," he reassured again as he pulled her into his arms, and she pressed herself against him, feeling his warmth and security one last time.

"Thank you…" Sarah murmured into his chest.

Alfred didn't let their embrace go on any longer. He slowly pushed her away toward the door. "Go," he told her, "go now!"

Sarah didn't hesitate. She grabbed her bag and bolted out of the room and raced down the hallway, knowing that Alfred had told her the truth, that Bruce wouldn't stop her now. She stopped at the elevator and shifted her weight impatiently, waiting, hoping that this wasn't a dream. If it was – Bruce would have been in the elevator waiting for her. If it wasn't, she could take the elevator, walk out the lobby, and push the door open into the world she had long been isolated from.

* * *

Well, that had been the easy part. Where did she go from here?

Sarah walked fast down the sidewalk and stopped at a busy street corner. She looked ahead, right and left, but never back.

Where could she go?

The train station really wasn't far. She had enough money to get to the airport and maybe a cross country flight from there. And then what? Change her name, scramble for another job, lie about her past, her entire life?

No. Something was telling her she needed to stay here. Her head was screaming for her to leave, to get away… but her heart… her heart was pulling for the theater. The sensation was something foreign; and after her body stiffened, she suddenly felt a powerful, overwhelming pull – a need to return to the theater immediately. She knew who was waiting for her, and she knew who needed her to return.

She hailed a taxi as the pull became stronger. It was nearly overwhelming her. She felt as if a strange, twisting weight was deep within her chest. It was getting heavier and heavier the closer she got to the theater.

Finally, the taxi stopped in front of the theater steps and because it was still early in the morning, there was no one in sight. She paid the driver and he sped away without a word. Sarah looked up at the sumptuous neo-Baroque building, grander and more elaborately decorated than any contemporary building of the kind in the city, perhaps the country. She climbed the steps and walked to the door without hesitation. She knew that it would be open just for her, and she stepped inside and let the heavy door close behind her.

It was quiet, eerily so. Not a sound of any kind. It felt more than strange to be here alone when she was so used to seeing so much activity during working hours. Her footsteps made not a sound as she made her way through the oppressive quiet to the grand foyer. She went past the coat check and through the marble archway that led into the auditorium landing where the grand staircase awaited her. Everything was monumental, opulently expressed, in an elaborate language of marbles and lush statuary. The grand hallways seemed to stretch farther than she remembered, reminding her of long, stone passageways...

Sarah's adrenaline had been pumping for a while, but now it began to settle into an disquieting exhaustion. She set her bag down and fell into an upholstered chair; finally free from Bruce, from his secrets and deceit, and his darkness. She never imagined that a person could become such a shadow of an ideal, a creature of night so readily, and to be able to become a part of that so well… it sent shivers through her very being.

But Alfred had released her from her prison, and saved her from diving into her own inner abyss. It wasn't the hero or even anti-hero she was expecting. Alfred had been her champion.

"Are you lost?"

Jareth's clipped voice snapped her back with a start. She glanced at him before hugging herself as she rose from the chair.

"Alfred let me go."

"I know," he replied matter-of-factly.

"But thanks for…"

Jareth held up his hand to stop her cynicism. "That time is over now."

"No, it's not. It's not just the mob looking for me now. Batman's out there. Not Bruce… Batman. He'll find me before they do. And he'll lock me up again."

Jareth grinned, lop-sided, but he didn't say anything. He wore a long, white overcoat – it looked like a sheet of ice that covered his shoulders and was poured down - over a dove grey shirt that was neatly tucked into a black cummerbund, complete with dark pants and boots. He looked stunning and despite how furious Sarah had been with him, she still couldn't keep her eyes away.

"Why did you leave me?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Jareth moved closer. "I didn't think I would have much success of bringing you back to your senses. When you become upset, you certainly do throw a most inspiring temper tantrum."

Sarah's arms tightened around herself, her pout became more pronounced. Maybe she did overreact a little. The flush in her cheeks was taken as embarrassment, and Jareth gently held his hand out to her. "Come with me." Sarah stared at his outreached hand and didn't move. "Oh, come now," he chided, half amused. "I don't bite."

She sighed and shifted her weight, but it looked like a stomp of her foot. She took his hand, and Jareth pulled her closer.

"Much," he finished, his grin growing into a feral smile.

Sarah rolled her eyes in response and let him lead her down the grand hallway. Enveloped in a magnificent palace and trusting Jareth to lead her through it alone was something she never imagined she could herself to do. But at this point, Sarah had no one left to trust, and Jareth was brimming with excitement. Not the gleam of cruel mischief in his eyes, but something else that was genuinely decent. The anticipation he had in him felt like a child's gift to a parent – he thought it would be perfect.

"Now, see that silver owl up in the corner?" Jareth pointed up in the right hand corner of the ceiling, and she did spot an owl with outstretched wings. Anyone else would have missed it among the cherubs and dancing angels. "This is the hallway you'll have to walk so no one can follow you," he continued. "Once you've passed the owl, no one will be able to see you."

Leading her by the hand, Jareth suddenly slipped into a door so intricately made, so joined to the wall, that at first glance, or even a second, no one would know there was a door there. Holding her breath, Sarah stepped in after Jareth, and the door closed behind them softly.

Inside was another world, a world of Victorian simplicity, and elegance. A parlor of blue and white French Provincial style that was gently warmed by a crackling fireplace. Upholstered pieces in navy blue including an ottoman and a chaise lounge were placed in front of the fire, along with pieces of deep mahogany furniture. The room's chandelier twinkled in both clear and color glass drops. A glass door on the far wall was heavily draped in blue velvet and white lace. Sarah stood frozen and marveled at the sight before her. There were two separate doors on either side of the room, but it was the glass door she wanted to go to.

Jareth held fast to her hand. "Not yet," he smiled, knowing her mind. "This way first." Sarah allowed him to lead her, but her eyes were still fixed on this creation of his. It was so warm and inviting. Not a trace of malice or deception.

He had brought her into another room with sage and champagne colors used throughout that elegantly blended with the blonde and glass furniture. Sarah held her breath. The room's centerpiece was an exquisite canopy bed with blonde wood furnishings. So this was her new bedroom. She pulled her hand from his and turned around in a slow circle. It too was comfortable and spacious, but what really drew her attention was a dark blue ceiling of glittering stars inside her new bathroom. She walked inside and stared openly at a sunken tub set into a tiled alcove of stars with a stained glass panel of a resplendent angel in a snowstorm.

It was a magnificent setting of stars and snow, yet sadly, Sarah had a feeling she would be wary using it, knowing Jareth had crafted it from his magic.

She sighed, almost longingly, before Jareth took her hand again. "Now you may see the outside," he told her.

She raised her eyebrows. "There's an outside?"

Jareth drew her to him and brought her back to the parlor, where the fire was still blazing, and opened the glass door for her. Outside was a patio decorated with Chinese lanterns, outdoor furnishings, and a small fountain attached to the wall that poured water softly onto moss and water lilies. Green and white fireflies lazily floated through the air and out among a wide, silky expanse of water. A full moon was setting softly into the sea; dawn was nearly rising here.

Sarah walked across the patio and leaned over the balcony railing. "Where are we?"

"Your new home, if you wish it." He cocked his head and gazed at her profile. "Do you like it?"

She shook her head in awe. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "Although… I still can't really go anywhere."

"On the contrary."

She turned to him and couldn't stop a smile. "More?"

"More," he assured, smiling back at her. Jareth took her back into the parlor and to the door on their left. It was a plain, nondescript door; someone could have confused it for a closet. "This door," Jareth said, "will take you anywhere you wish to go. Merely visualize it in your head and it will be waiting for you."

Sarah knew the Goblin King. He had deceived her twice, three times… too many to count. Now, her smile was fading into a scowl. But Jareth stayed good-humored. "No tricks," he assured. "I promise."

Sarah held her breath, opened the door, and stepped into the bedroom she had spent her childhood in. They had entered through her old closet door. Everything had been as she had left it before she went to Gotham. This was her home.

"Is this real?" she said, awed.

Once again Jareth took her hand, their fingers entwining easily and naturally. He tugged lightly but Sarah stood her ground when she heard Toby's voice. "I…" she faltered. I'll take your word for it." Even though she and Toby could still keep secrets, it was difficult explaining an abrupt appearance to a nearly ten year old boy. He was old enough to know that you had to fly to get to Gotham City from his home.

Jareth's face showed a bold grin at the corners of his mouth. "Anyplace else, then?"

Sarah's eyes suddenly dazzled before him. "Krista," she said without hesitation.

Jareth withdrew his hand and went back to her closet door. He opened it for her and inside was a confined space of racks of old clothes, boxes, and knickknacks; but Jareth gestured for her to enter just the same. "After you," he offered politely.

Her bedroom door open just slightly, Sarah stopped to listen to Toby holler down at his mother from the top of the stairs.

"I said I didn't want any, mom!"

"Too late, I've already added the tomatoes!"

"I've told you a thousand times I don't like 'em!"

"And I've told you a thousand more times that they're good for you. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes and you better be too!"

"Whatever…"

Sarah heard her little brother murmur something inaudible under his breath as his footsteps came closer.

She suddenly lunged forward into the closet and stood back as Jareth shut the door behind them just before she heard Toby walk past her bedroom and into his.

Sarah sighed and glanced at Jareth coyly. Jareth looked back at her with a straight face then winked at her before he opened the door again. She didn't step inside her old bedroom this time. It was a short, brightly lit hallway with hardwood floors and burgundy walls. She had only been to Krista's loft twice but she recognized it right away.

Before Jareth could step out with her, Krista turned the corner and nearly jumped back, screaming.

"Krista!" Sarah screamed back and slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it. "It's okay, it's just me, I'm sorry!"

"Jesus Christ!" Krista clutched at her chest and laughed through her deep breaths. "You scared the crap outta me! What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"I'm sorry!" Sarah apologized again. She shook terribly and had to take deep breaths too. In truth, Sarah was just as scared as Krista. Hopefully, there wasn't a Goblin King still stuck inside the hallway closet. "I thought I'd drop by and went through the back door. I'm sorry I thought I'd surprise and not scare you."

"You're forgetting where you are," Krista leaned against the wall to keep herself from teetering with shock. "Even with Randy here, I get a little paranoid at night."

"Oh, Randy…" Sarah had forgotten Krista had just moved in with her current boyfriend. Before then, Krista had been used to people dropping in at all hours, but now it seemed it was happening less often. The place did look tidier than it had been before. "I'm sorry, I can go."

"It's okay, hun," Krista moved in for a hug, and Sarah nearly collapsed into her arms, but still kept her heel against the door. "Randy has a class now anyway." They pulled away and Krista brushed a stray hair from Sarah's face. "I was just about to make a greasy breakfast and coffee. You're welcome to join."

Sarah almost laughed out loud. "That would be so great."

Krista caught the tears that were starting to form in her friend's eyes. They were, however, tears of joy. "You okay?"

"I'm on cloud nine right now!"

Krista cocked a brow. "Are you high?"

Sarah laughed aloud. "If this is what it feels like, then yeah, really high!"

"Okay…." Krista was clearly a little weirded out by Sarah's giddiness, but her eyes weren't red and she wasn't twitching or sweating profusely. She hadn't seen Sarah outside the theater in months. Maybe Bruce Wayne was to blame for that and Sarah was more stifled in that relationship than everybody thought.

Krista laughed under her breath. She really was happy and relieved to see Sarah again. She started to walk back down with Sarah. "Okay, I'll set the coffee up…"

Sarah suddenly pulled back. "Wait! Wait, just one second, I have to use the bathroom real quick."

"Uh, you're not going to retch, are you?"

"No." Sarah shook her head and looked down at herself. "No, I'm fine, see?" She held her arms out and smiled broadly.

"Okay, I'll be in the kitchen."

Sarah watched Krista leave before she rushed into what she thought was Krista's bathroom. But she ended up back in her blue and white parlor. Jareth stood by the glass door, patiently waiting for her.

"You see?" Jareth's voice was silky. "Nothing can touch you here, I promise you."

"How did…?"

"You envisioned this in your mind," he answered her. "Very good. And I didn't even have to teach you that part." He sauntered up behind her and closed the door. "I always seem to underestimate the power of that diamond," he said, almost derisively. "You already associate this place with security, my magic and the diamond has the power to bring you back to what you feel is safe. Keep that on you at all times and you will always return to what you've already deemed as your shelter."

"I already do…" she blinked and touched her diamond at Jareth's look, "keep it on me."

"I know."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her diamond close now. "You've thought of everything," she noted. "What's the catch?"

Jareth scoffed lightly. "Can't I do something nice for you?"

Sarah stood silent, waiting.

"Very well," he conceded. "I've done some digging, and before the Batman came, there was corruption aplenty, and what he's done for the city is good, I will admit. The former crime boss, Falcone, was no Apollo but when he was at the top there was an uneasy peace between criminals and law enforcement alike. He kept things in order and if something needed to be taken care of, he did it quickly and somewhat quietly. Now every gang in this city is fighting for control of what used to be Falcone's glorious underground. Everyday there's some sort of violence, some sort of brouhaha. And you, unfortunately, were caught in the crossfire."

She finally dropped her arms, and looked around, sizing up her new circumstances. "So if I stayed here until everything blows over, I can possibly have a normal life again?"

"We can hope." Sarah's breath suddenly caught in her throat as his hand slipped from her shoulder to her lower back. He softly kissed her cheek. "Your friend is waiting for you."

"Thank you."

* * *

Jareth sat in front of the fire in the parlor he had made for Sarah. The spell he placed over her canopied bed had already taken effect – she was sound asleep and no dream would disturb her tonight.

In the flame's light, his cheekbones were casting shadows as if he was a stoic warrior. He had a ferocious gleam in his eyes – a glare. Some found it unnerving, and some found it mesmerizing.

He stared fixedly into the fire, trying to keep his eyes from wandering over this piece of magic he weaved and molded into existence. Sarah saw it as real, but it was only an illusion. Behind the walls hidden by mortals, this was another empty room used only for storage. Sarah only needed it to be livable for her, but he had of course taken it up a notch or two. It was his nature to do so and Sarah deserved this bit of illusion after all she had been through.

But if Jareth had learned anything in his entire lifetime, it was illusion was a powerful medium of control. It could take you to a place that brought strange comfort, but also great danger.

Jareth had not only built a world of illusion around Sarah, but also around himself. In fact, his very person was an illusion. The mask he sometimes wore, for one, was an illusion he made for himself. He designed and molded a mask of emotional coldness and indifference that would hide his true self and make him look invincible to anyone else. His entire Labyrinth was an illusion, filled with secret passageways and trap doors to catch the unsuspecting, which he designed and built for his own use. He designed and created a world for himself in the Underground, an illusion of normalcy, at least for him. He dressed Sarah in a gown more than once, creating an illusion of Sarah as his Queen. This world of illusion was leading him down a road of obsession… and he was the one who was nearly blind to it.

* * *

Sarah woke in her new bedroom. Beams of soft sunlight spilled inside and onto her face. She rolled over and looked out the window - a clear blue sky on a bright morning. She didn't remember lying in bed last night for hours or staring up at her ceiling, desperately waiting for sleep to come. When she returned, she simply dressed in the extra night clothes she had, and climbed into bed. It meant she slept soundly and deeply for the first time in weeks. Was she really that comfortable in her new room? She was sure she would feel Jareth's presence all around her, making it impossible to sleep. But she truly didn't remember anything past putting her head on this pillow.

She sat up out of bed and gazed out over the crystal sea that waved and churned underneath her window and far beyond. It was a view that anyone would have paid good money for, and it was all hers.

After thoroughly brushing her hair and washing her face, she noted (with a little dread) that she would have to bathe sometime soon since Jareth didn't leave her with a shower stall. She really couldn't ask for anything else after all he had given her. Maybe there was a delicate way of bringing this up without making him too displeased with her.

A thin robe was hanging for her and she took it and wrapped it around her body. She wasn't surprised to feel a soft warmth radiate from its very fibers. Walking out of her bedroom and into her parlor, she suddenly stopped and stared at Jareth lounging ever so gracefully in one of the chairs, staring into the fire that was already burning softly. The quiet of his alien eyes suddenly lit at the sight of her. His expression didn't change, but his eyes ran over her body, slowly. She eyed him carefully in return, but never quite being able to meet the intensity of his eyes. He suddenly smiled cynically at this. She finally forced her eyes to his, meaning to say something meaningful, or anything to tell him what she really felt.

"_All of this means more to me than you'll ever know… I love you… Can I have a shower stall?"_

She shook her head, clearing it of the fuzz remaining from sleep.

If Jareth noticed, he didn't take note of it and draped his arms lazily across the back of the chair. "How did you sleep last night?"

Sarah crossed her arms. "Wonderful, actually," she answered quietly.

"Good. A minor sleep spell always does the trick."

So that was why.

"I wish you wouldn't," she sighed, and walked on past him into the walkway that led into the small kitchen nook. Sarah hadn't really had a good chance to look around here yet, but there was everything she needed to keep food and even cook. And…

"_Oh sweet God in Heaven…"_

Coffee.

The only sound was the opening and closing of her cupboards and the clatter of the coffee pot as she began her morning, making it as normal as possible. As she waited for her coffee to brew, Sarah propped herself up on the kitchen counter and ducked her head, letting dark strands of hair cover half of her face.

A harsh, yet unhurried clack of boots against kitchen tile broke Sarah's reverie. She looked up slowly to find him leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entryway, his arms folded across his chest. He was not threatening her, or trying to intimidate, yet she was afraid to move, even breathe. She wasn't quite sure she was awake, she could be dreaming, but the stout smell of morning coffee was certainly real enough.

"I am only trying to make you feel at home, Sarah," he said, looking at her again with curiously sincere eyes. He didn't move, but his body was tensed for it, she could see it in the way the muscles of his thighs flexed beneath his breeches.

"Thirsty?" she asked offhandedly, ignoring his concern.

He smirked a little at her offer. "No thank you," he said, turning his head away. "It smells vile."

"I thought this was from you too."

"Only the idea of it. I know you mortals enjoy it, for whatever reason."

"It's the caffeine," she grumbled, hopping off the counter. She poured herself a cup and waited sullenly for her coffee to cool.

"Is it so difficult?" he asked, smoothing his eyes over her as he came nearer. "My wanting to help you?"

She took a sip of her coffee and set it down on the counter. The air in the kitchen had become so oppressive she almost ran past him to open the balcony door. She took one more sip of coffee before she turned to begin her day.

But Jareth refused to move aside for her. He tilted his head at her downcast eyes. "I deserve an answer."

"Yes, you do," she murmured. She ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Please understand that the past couple of months haven't been happy ones for me. I've grown so distrustful of everyone around me now. You, above all people, should know this. It's hard for me to accept anything good after everything… and that's still happening. I'm not completely free, and technically am at your mercy. My old foe. Of course I'm going to be wary. You're so adamant to have me at your side at whatever cost. It will take time before I'm convinced that this is not an elaborate trap you've set for me..."

"I cannot force you into something you are unwilling to become," he said sharply, his face finally showing the slightest hints of resentment.

Grabbing her coffee cup, she stalked out of the kitchen, grabbed some clothes she had rummaged through and rushed into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her before hurriedly changing, cursing under her breath as she did so.

"Unwilling to become," she huffed and blew hair out of her face. "Of course I'm unwilling to _become_!" Whipping the hair out of her collar, she turned back around to leave, but her eyes caught the bath.

It sat waiting for her.

"Oh for goodness sake!" she hissed before she burst out of her bathroom. Again, she found Jareth in the parlor lounging again, rather regally.

"Listen I'm really sorry that I'm so neurotic as to ask you for one more thing but there's no shower stall, and I'm used to showers not baths and I appreciate it, it's very lovely, but I would…"

"Done."

She was completely taken aback by the kindness Jareth had shown her, and was still so shaken up from the past few days that her thoughts were a mess. She was still terrified of the being sitting across from her. If he had failed to control her before, he certainly had power over her now. She was holding up well so far, and the coffee wasn't making her see little brown and white fairies, so that was a good sign.

"I'm trying to be… nice."

"I know," he said, glancing slyly at her. "Although in retrospect, it doesn't really make a difference. I've given you so much and you still believe I would risk betraying the trust you are so unwilling to give? I will not break this little bit of confidence we must have between us if this is to be your sanctuary. Besides, even if you wanted me to watch you bathe, you would need to take _that_ off."

Sarah turned bright red, and skimmed her hand over her chest, feeling for her diamond again.

He could sense the exhaustion and fear underneath her steely self-control and felt pity for her. Although she was being rather overanxious… But still, Jareth had to suppress a wicked grin. He did enjoy watching her squirm sometimes.

"I have to go," she said in a small voice. "Thanks…"

"Sarah," he called after her, "you've been missing, presumed sick, by Alexandra. What will you tell them?"

Sarah stopped at the door, thought about it, and then simply shrugged her shoulders. "I feel better."

* * *

Sarah calmly walked down the long hallway to the auditorium landing as if she had walked through the front door. No one was in this part of the theater, the cleaning crew had already come and left in the early morning hours, and most of the cast and crew were already backstage. She took the side door to the actor's alley, putting her things away in her locker.

"Sarah!"

She cringed at hearing her name called by her director. Sarah closed her eyes, cocked her head, and took a deep breath, suppressing her irritation. "Good morning, Alexandra," she barely managed.

Alexandra came up to her, instantly invading her personal space. "Bruce called a few days ago. He said you weren't feeling well…"

Sarah sighed and walked away from her locker. "I'm fine."

Alexandra followed her into the changing room. "You've been missed here."

"Well, now I'm back."

"And you're still up for playing Salome?"

"As well as I am able, which I always am."

"Bianca has been your alternate and she's doing well…"

Her anger was beginning to seep into her voice. "I said I can do it."

"Sarah, the play is coming to the end of its run. I want to pursue something more contemporary after this, but maybe, you need a break."

"No," her tone was cold and sharp. "Alexandra. I'm the best actress in this Company. Everyone knows that."

"There's been a lot of pressure on you this season and I only want to help…"

Sarah finally rounded on her director. "You've been enough of a help, Alexandra. I'm back for good and I'll take whatever role I can." She took a good look at the woman she used to fear and respect, but Sarah knew how she tried to put her with Maroni for the sake of money. There was nothing respectable about her now. Just another lying, cowering, manipulative person to pity. "If you'll excuse me," Sarah turned to her mirror to touch up her makeup. "I have to warm up for rehearsal."

Alexandra caught the dismissal in her tone. At this point, Alexandra was in deep with Maroni, but instead of retribution, she owed him what he had spent on Sarah's gifts in cash; which, for her, was a fortune. It would take her the rest of her life to pay everything back, interest included.

Alexandra pursed her lips and began to walk out of the changing room. "Very well. I'll tell the cast you're back." But she stopped. "Oh, and Sarah?" She always needed the last word. "I can smell you from over here. Shower sometime today."


	27. Dream Dragons

A new set was being built. The crew members had just put on the finishing touches and the prop masters had lit the candles to see what the final outcome looked like. Apparently, it had either turned out wonderfully or there was something still missing, as they had all scattered for lunch.

Bruce crept inside through the side doors and into the set, tiptoeing around statues of saints and memorials to the false dead; this was supposed to be someone's little chapel. Candles shone from huge candle stands and from gilded chandeliers, saints held out marble hands to bless, carvings of angels smiled in forever faith, bunches of flowers scented the air like perfume. It was ornate, and in the enclosed space, dark, mysterious, and beautiful.

He searched for Sarah. She wasn't among the few stragglers slowly making their way out the front doors, or with the crew setting their tools aside for their breaks. There was a chance Sarah could have been rehearsing in one of the studios behind the auditorium. If that was the case, he was used to slipping by unnoticed. No one saw him slink through the sets. Even with ladders, tools, pipes, and buckets of paint and plaster; Bruce was able to remain unseen.

Sarah was indeed practicing in the spare theater space that backup dancers were designated to practice in. She wore a close-fitting, black tank top with slim black pants that flared slightly at the bottom. An older, more voluptuous woman was there watching Sarah as she turned in circles with her arms and hands weaving through the air.

"Again," the woman demanded.

Sarah moved across the floor again, skillfully, her arms like water as if she had no bones.

An image of Lori Lyons, blood dark, congealed, came into Bruce' head. He shook it away, took a deep breath, concentrated on Sarah's torso as it curved and swayed; as her hair caught in the curve of her neck and into her open mouth.

The pool of blood was under Lori's head and halfway down the back of her body. The gash in her throat had looked like another mouth at first glance, a fish's mouth…

He stepped back abruptly and put the heels of his hands to his eyes to rub away the vision. In Bruce's mind, Lori's sightless eyes stared up at him. Night terrors had come to him again since Sarah disappeared from the penthouse, bringing him blood-filled dreams, demon's dreams, and there was nothing he could do about them except wait for them to pass. Lori's murder had unchained the dream dragons again. He could feel images waiting at the edge of his mind.

He watched as, finished at last, breathless and perspiring, Sarah sat in an empty chair and rubbed her neck and hair with towels.

"You're favoring the right side," the woman told her.

"I wasn't."

"What's wrong?" Alexandra had charged into the room. Bruce pulled back further and narrowed his eyes.

"She's favoring the right," the woman repeated.

"No, I wasn't," Sarah persisted. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull, Alexandra. I'm not a trained dancer."

"You will be."

Sarah stared at her director, not bothering to hide the malice in her voice. "You've already made it clear that this won't be a ballet but you told me the next would be contemporary. So much for your word," Sarah sneered. "You want to put on 'Cinderella', and you want the Grimm version, no less. It's awful, Alex."

"It's different, it's fresh," the woman tried to mediate.

"It's obscene," Sarah scowled deeply. "Not only is this one of the darkest retelling of the story, but it's not even a real play! And I do remember telling you that I didn't want to do this. At all."

"And as much as I would like to gratify you with your wishes, Sarah," Alexandra said her name like it was a bad taste in her mouth, "Mr. Wayne specifically told me that he wanted _you_ in the lead."

Sarah flicked her eyes away and shifted her weight. "When?"

"Just last night. He insisted on it."

"She doesn't want to see you."

A young woman's voice. Startled and inwardly a little annoyed that someone had found him, Bruce turned, ready to turn on the charm. He recognized Krista right away. He put on his most breathtaking smile and extended his hand cordially.

"I'm sorry, we haven't met; I'm Bruce."

Krista didn't return the handshake. She stood perfectly still, obviously not taken with his charm. "I know who you are. Sarah doesn't want to see you."

Bruce dropped his hand and tried to sound as innocent as possible. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"I don't think so. I think you should leave. Before you make things worse."

It was rare that a woman would speak to him in such a spiteful way. So far, Sarah had been the only exception. But the sting that came from Krista's voice sent shivers down his spine like nails on ice. He hid his uneasiness as best as he could, but he could only keep a composed face for so long. He was afraid the images would come back at any minute and he wouldn't be able to hide the pain that came with it.

"Of course," Bruce nodded his head. "I'm sorry if I caused any inconvenience." He kept his distance from her as he walked past.

Krista turned to make sure he left, and Bruce had just missed her lips curve upward into a smile, reaching for a pair of glimmering mis-matched eyes.

* * *

Sarah turned her face upward like a flower and admired the intricacy of the grand clock without saying a word. Dials and arrows, colored glass, showing time, date, phase of the moon, and sun signs. Sarah reached out and touched the tiny metal nymphs that played along the perimeter. She did it every time. She loved the dancing nymphs.

Jareth stared at her profile as they walked down the long gallery together. He often found it irresistible to watch her when she became encased in curious surroundings such as this. The innocence and wonder she had exuded years ago appeared once more, and he found it marvelous that seeing Sarah like this never ceased to amuse him. He had truly done a good thing by crafting this very own Wonderland for her.

This was a very different approach than what he had tried in the recent past, and it seemed to be working. She felt safe and protected here by bringing back remnants of her young and overactive imagination of her childhood. He knew her well from the time she was just breaking into womanhood, and in that transition Sarah had found a sanctuary in stories, toys, and paper crowns that lessened the pain of her early teenage years. The magic of the Underground had been the final phase of her journey into womanhood, and it became so engrained into Sarah's being that she felt almost at home here. Or at least it had seemed that way.

Her walk through the halls was relaxed and somewhat dreamy. And why not? She was walking through her own enchanted palace. A palace that was the gateway between this world and to the Underground.

"Why haven't I seen my friends?" Sarah suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Jareth huffed inwardly. Of course, quiet moments were rare between the two of them. "When you banished me the last time, I made sure you banished everything that was a part of me, as well. Your friends are residents of my Labyrinth. The Labyrinth is part of my kingdom, and therefore, is a part of me."

"Well, now that a part of you is back, they can come and see me too, can't they?"

He pursed his thin lips together. "It's more complicated than you think."

"Is it?"

"It is. Things have changed in my Kingdom recently but my power is still absolute."

Sarah suddenly turned more inquisitive than reproachful. "How have things changed?"

"It is nothing to concern yourself with," he snapped. But he softened his tone immediately. He didn't want her to have any suspicions of the type of goblins that were now existing in the Underground. "However, I can arrange for your friends to visit your brother if you wish."

"Maybe it's better that they don't see me anyway," she sighed. "They might ask too many questions that I'm…" Sarah thought she saw something small and gold twirling away at the corner of her eye, but when she turned, nothing was there. "Not sure I want to answer," she finished.

"This will not last forever," Jareth assured. "The mob will either have moved on to someone else, or the Batman will have cleaned up their mess."

"But then what?" she asked, descending the grand staircase. "We'll go back to the way we were?" She stopped a step below Jareth and looked up at him. "Using more of your black magic on me?"

He grinned and descended down past her, his eyes lingering as he did so. "Black magic?" he asked innocently. "My dear, I've never touched the stuff. Whatever made you think of such a thing?"

She followed him down the stairs and through the hallway towards her hidden suite. "It's been my experience that magic seeks to control the victim. It's not what the fairy books told you at all."

"Perhaps. Yet, true magic is neither black nor white," he said over his shoulder. "It's both because nature is both. It's both loving and cruel, nurturing and dangerous, all at the same time. The only good or bad is in the heart. Life and magic have kept their own balance."

All was quiet throughout the massive halls. A few more chandeliers and it would have looked just like the Hall of Mirrors of Versailles. They walked silently together, the only sound their unhurried footsteps. She tried to repress a shiver, remembering how he had touched her the night of Bruce's party. Jareth was both loving and cruel, persuasive and dangerous, and all at the same time. He was pure magic. A tough act to follow.

She turned her gaze to the walls as they continued down to her suite. Their reflections were everywhere around them; to the side, behind them, in the tiniest corners. The candles and lights that had been lit for them were slowly burning out as they passed. Sarah looked behind her and saw infinite darkness, and on instinct, she stepped closer to Jareth. He smiled at this, but didn't let her see it in any of his reflections.

"Magic is very literally like love," he said, breaking the silence. "It is merely an abstract notion, a powerful one to be sure; a tangible yet sometimes intangible force that we manipulate to suit our different selves. It is used in the way the carrier wills it to be. Be it for good or evil."

Sarah followed him past the flying owl high up in the ceiling, and into her suite, with the hidden door automatically closing behind them.

"Think of magic as a drug," he drew the curtains back from the balcony and revealed the crescent moon over her night sea. "It depends on how you use it and how it uses you." He turned back to her, grinning devilishly. "Personally, I think it's done wonders for me."

Sarah rolled her eyes and smiled unevenly. She looked over at the clock on the mantle piece. It was almost 7:30. She was supposed to be at Krista's half an hour ago. Grabbing her coat, and quickly checking herself in the mirror, Sarah put her lipstick in her purse before heading towards the door tucked in the corner of the sitting room.

"I'm going to Krista's," she announced over her shoulder.

"You don't want to spend anymore time with me," Jareth was ripe with mock accusation as he watched her. 'Woman, you stab me through the heart again and again."

"Oh, please." She tugged her coat on and flipped her hair out from the collar. "I practically live with you. Besides, it's not like I can ever invite anybody over here… meaning people. She actually _is_ expecting me tonight so it won't look so odd popping out of her closet this time."

Jareth watched the way she swung her hair over her shoulders, how she could barely contain the smile from spreading from her lips, the light step she had in her feet. She was happy, and it brought him a great and prideful sense of pleasure to know that he had made her so.

He could feel it like warm water bubbling to the surface of his heart. He was changing. He was changing for her.

"Sarah," he called after her, "do you still hate me?"

Sarah stopped at the door before opening it. She turned back and they looked at each other for a second, but that was all it took. "No," she answered simply. She opened the door and walked through to Krista's apartment, leaving Jareth behind.

* * *

Sarah walked out of Krista's closet and quietly closed the door with a light click. As softly as she could, Sarah crept down the hallway and listened for any signs of Krista or Randy.

Night began to seep into the sky, and as it sharpened, her senses also became heightened. The darkness stirred and it awoke her imagination. Her and Jareth alone in a dark hallway with nothing but their own reflections mimicking their dance…

Sarah had to shake off the thought as to what sort of dance it could be.

But what she had told him just now was the truth. She didn't hate him. Hate encompassed the emotions of revulsion, disgust, abhorrence, or detestation. In short, Sarah simply couldn't stand Jareth at one time. It was hard not to with his pride and arrogance. If she said she hated him before then she did out of anger, the heat of the moment.

The more important question right now was did she hate Bruce?

The time she had spent away from him had made her see why he did what he did; at least when it came to locking her away. It was fear. Fear for her safety, and fear of his secret identity as the most wanted man in Gotham. But she still couldn't find herself to forgive him for trying to use her to find Superman. She still felt resentment and disgust whenever she thought of this. The only consolation she could get from it was the fact that Bruce would never find him.

Although hate was also a strange feeling to have. It truly sat inside of you and ate away at everything good you were hanging onto. It changed people, and perhaps that was when Clark discovered he had a rival for Sarah's affections; a rival who was a danger even to him. Mild-mannered Clark must have struggled with an emotion that he had never experienced before with such intensity.

Sarah stepped out of Krista's hallway closet. The floor was empty and dark, but she heard voices downstairs and closed the door quietly behind her. Walking down the hallway, she noticed something on the floor at the top of the stairs. It was a small book on top of a pile of larger novels. It was a book of poetry. Probably one of Krista's. Sarah picked it up and leafed through it, stopping at a page that had been saved.

_"Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort."_

Jean Cocteau was never more right. Despite herself, Sarah smiled.

She dropped the book back into the pile, descended the stairs, and stopped short at the sight of Bianca.

Bianca was fiddling with an earring when she glanced over at Sarah. "Look who it is," she said.

Sarah slowly descended the last few steps. "Where's Krista?"

"Hey, Sarah!" Emily came flying around the corner. "Krista already left to save our table."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "Our table?"

"Yeah, we're all going to the Iceberg Lounge tonight."

Panic started to sink into Sarah's chest. She hadn't been out into the city yet. It was still too dangerous for her. "I thought we were going to stay in."

"Change of plans," Bianca said. "You were supposed to be here at eight. The Iceberg Lounge doesn't hold reservations." She cast derisive eyes over Sarah. "At least not for you, anymore."

Sarah grit her teeth. She told Emily that she and Bruce were not exactly seeing each other anymore. Apparently, Bianca knew now too. But Bianca had always been the jealous type. She couldn't stand to see Sarah climb so high when she believed she had twice the talent and the looks Sarah did.

"I wouldn't know," Sarah said quietly. "I've never been to the Iceberg."

Bianca shrugged. "Whatever, I'm not the one who decided who get up off her back."

Sarah's blood began to turn hot. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Bianca turned and smiled coldly at her. "Or was it your knees?

In a flash, Sarah had bolted and shoved Bianca against the wall. She grabbed her throat with one hand and began to squeeze…

"Sarah!" Emily screamed. "Let her go!"

Bianca clutched at Sarah's wrist around her own throat and stared at her in wide-eyed fear.

Sarah could barely hear Emily begging her to let Bianca go. She was blinded by rage – a white hot rage that blurred over her eyes and wiped away all other thoughts. She didn't know why or what possessed her to attack Bianca like this, only that something had exploded within her. All of the isolation, fear, depression that had encompassed her in the last few months was finally reaching its zenith – and it frightened her as much as it was Bianca at this moment.

Sarah finally yanked herself away from Bianca and without looking back or even an apology, she ran out of the room and back up to Krista's room. What had she done? She had never attacked anyone like that before. Even in Metropolis when Katie Porta had been so spiteful towards her, she never reacted like that, not even then.

Her hands were shaking, and her blood was pumping in her ears. Shocked and embarrassed at her behavior, she ran into Krista's room and slammed the door behind her. Sarah breathed harshly through her mouth and put her ear to the door. She could hear Emily rushing Bianca out the front door, trying to calm them both down by speaking in hushed tones. But Sarah knew that they felt threatened with her here and decided it would be best if they left her alone and leave without her. But she wouldn't have gone in any case. Sarah knew it was too dangerous to go out into Gotham. There were too many people looking for her.

But this horrible incident would surely go around the entire Company by the next morning. People would look at her quite differently now. This could cause her her already questionable reputation and most definitely her job. If Alexandra was hesitant about casting her again, this would most likely be the deciding factor. She would be unfit and unwell to take another demanding role. She heard the front door close and the entire house had become quiet. She was alone.

"_The princess has gone mad…"_

She punched the door, hard; and flinched when the skin of her knuckles was scraped, but she merely shook them out. She was more concerned about the butterflies and rocks that were starting to twist and turn in her stomach. She clutched her waist and stared down at her diamond that had escaped from her blouse.

Her diamond, so pure it glimmered and gave off a light of its own, an entirely unnatural light…

A shadow fell across her and she looked up. Sarah watched the dark shadow hover just outside the light, and she let out a small scream of terror as she fell backwards and crashed onto her backside.

Batman loomed over her menacingly; suddenly the butterflies and rocks were replaced by tsunamis of fiery terror. Batman yanked Sarah to her feet, dragged her to the other side of the room, and shoved her up against the wall violently.

She cried out as his hands gripped her upper arms, tight. Sarah tried to fight him off; she kicked at his knees and tried to squirm out of his grasp. But he wouldn't move; he was too strong. She stared into his sharp, black eyes; the same way Bianca had just stared into hers. And she stopped fighting. He was already going to leave bruises, her fighting him would just make them worse.

"_Why_?" He roared into her face. He clenched his fists around her own throat and towered over her. "Why?"

She could feel the anger radiating off of him, filling the room, blurring everything else out until all she could see was the obsidian glimmer of his eyes, ready to take her heart out. She had a sudden memory, of a charming smile followed by a bouquet of cascading flowers, her heart pounding with schoolgirl nerves, and a kiss they couldn't keep from each other any longer.

Even though she was trapped within his iron grip, she was not scared. She knew he would not physically harm her. Everything was dancing around in her mind's eye, Bruce's smile, his tenacity, how he had changed her… she was stunned, disoriented, and the sight of him was making her hot with anger.

"What are you going to do?" she cried out. "Hurt me?"

Batman stared at her for a minute longer. His eyes glimmering like two black stars. He loosened his grip, but just slightly.

In a quiet voice, she said, "Let _go_ of me."

Slowly he relaxed his grip even more but still held onto her. His eyes suddenly turned tortured and his nostrils flared as he breathed in and out harshly. A deep, emanating growl escaped from his throat. "Why did you destroy everything I had?"

"You wanted his power for yourself!" she hissed. "You wanted to take over Gotham with _his_ power."

He shoved her against the wall again. "I _tried_ to help free this city from corruption. I tried to find a cure!"

"A cure for what?" she screamed back. "You wanted to experiment on someone who only wanted to good, like you! You're no better than the criminals you're trying to bring down."

He released her completely then, and she slumped to the floor. Her legs were too weak to hold herself up. His black cape trembled as he moved back, and her gaze roved over his towering height, the powerful expanse of his shoulders.

"How did you find me?" she breathed, rubbing her arms where his iron grip had been.

"Followed your friends," he rasped.

"Oh…" Sarah didn't consider that spending most of her time at Krista's would have given her away. He must have been watching this place for days. She tried to push herself from the floor using the wall as balance, and when Batman reached a hand to help her, she immediately recoiled and fell back to the floor. "Don't!" she screamed. "Don't touch me."

Batman stepped away. He was quiet for a few moments as Sarah stared at his unmoving profile. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he finally said gravely.

"I was startled," she said. "It's not everyday a giant bat throws you across the room."

"It's not everyday someone finds out who I really am," he countered.

Her pride and her wounds suddenly took over. She ignored her weak knees and managed to stand on her own two feet; her anger pushing her forward. "Aside from the fact that you lied to me, and you're lying to the world so no one thinks you're a lunatic, y_ou_ locked me away. Like a prisoner. You tossed me into a room and would have thrown away the key if you could."

His voice turned deep, almost soothing. "I didn't want it to get that far. You weren't supposed to know anything."

"I didn't have a choice when I found those papers," she said, her green eyes bright with rage. "It was the right thing to do and I think you know that. You got desperate."

"So did you."

"You're turning this back on me again," she spat. "_You_ used _me_."

"Meeting you was a coincidence."

"Bullshit!" she screamed. "You never wanted me. As soon as you found out I knew Superman, you thought you could play me!"

"No, that's not true," he said, turning to her. "I offered to protect you from the start because despite what you think of me, I _was_ concerned for your safety. When I found out that you were linked with Superman, I took it as something that fell right into my hands and I couldn't stop myself. But now that everything's gone, there's no point in carrying it out anymore. Yes, what I did was wrong. But my fight for Gotham will never cease. This is _my_ city and I'll continue to do it _my_ way."

Sarah knew that was as close to an admission of guilt that she would ever hear from him. But the pain and humiliation was still there.

"You tried to break me," her voice had become scratchy. "You tried to beat me down mentally to get me to talk. It still won't work."

"I went too far," he said again, "maybe I got scared too."

Scared, confused, angry, and desperate. They both were.

Sarah stumbled over possible words to use and finally gave up. "What are you doing, Bruce?" she asked in frustration, waving her hands in the air. "You could use your wealth and influence in other ways; and your name wouldn't have to be a secret anymore."

He took one step closer to her. His black eyes narrowed. "My name _is_ my secret. My secret is my weapon. The Batman is a shadow. A night terror. A creature to be feared."

Sarah shook her head. "You're just a man!"

"Yes, I am a man," he said, coming much closer to her now. "But I rely on my mind to make me appear more than that. So I never have to rely on chance."

"Because if a man is crazy enough to become a monster, what _won't_ he do?"

"Kill," he answered simply, rationally. "_This_ is my hidden, demonic, rage-filled side. The Batman creature I created is one that I have to control… but in a chaotic way. I'm capable of enacting violence - to kill - I'm constantly having to rein myself in."

He took another step toward her but this time she immediately retreated. "You have enough money to erase this country's national debt," she said shakily. "Computers, a crime lab... and you can just tap into any corporate database you want-"

"I let the FBI do that. Then I tap into the FBI." He wasn't at all phased. He had heard it all before, maybe hundreds of times. They both knew that this was a fight she was losing.

"This can't go on…" she tried again.

This time, Batman growled low and harsh. "I do this to ensure that no other child is forced to witness the death of the little innocence there is left in this world."

With that, he turned his back to her. The words that had been unspoken crashed into Sarah's mind like a train wreck. He did this because of his parents. Deep down, he was still the young boy watching his parents being murdered. It would never leave him. But by becoming Batman, he honored their memory in his pursuit of justice, and protecting the good in the city.

She thought about Jareth - volatile, cruel, spoiled rotten, shut away in the Underground, with no one but goblins for company. Bruce was almost everything Jareth was, shut away within the life he created, except he was always alone. As both Bruce and Batman. No one, not even Alfred, really understood him.

His voice was soft, calm, and sad. "There are dreams I have sometimes; dreams where Bruce Wayne and Batman are two separate beings. They fight… but in the end, the Batman always wins." He turned and looked back at her. "I had to become Batman to keep my sanity. The only way I can manage that is by creating a demonic, angry creature. I cease to become a man."

Sarah stared at his eyes that had turned from black to a gleaming gray. He didn't have to say anymore. She was beginning to understand and come to terms with how another human being saw their own brutal duality. It was something she was beginning to become familiar with. She remembered what Bruce had once told her. Gotham is an anvil upon which one is broken or tempered... This city needed a hero more than anything else. They finally got one, but Bruce got cheated out of his childhood. He became Batman the instant his parents were murdered. And as soon as he put that mask on – he became a beast. But Batman also needed Bruce, however hollow that identity felt to him sometimes. Bruce kept Batman human.

Bruce Wayne and Batman were two entirely different people. Maybe that was why Sarah had never picked up on it before. But maybe she did, and she denied her own intuition. She couldn't believe a man could become another creature so easily.

"_It's not who he is underneath,"_ she thought, "_but what he does that defines him."_

The tension from his shoulders had not left him, and when he turned to her, Sarah could clearly see the apprehension, the urgency on what she saw of his face. The humanity in Bruce was passing through the mask he wore.

He stared down at her, and though she didn't draw back, he could see in her eyes that he had discomfited her. "Sarah," he said in Bruce's voice, "the only other person who knows is Alfred, and he's been with me since the day I was born. I trust him with my life, and it is my life that depends on this secret. I know you have every reason in the world to hate me. But I'm here now, pleading with you. I swear I will keep you safe and give you the freedom you want if you give me your word that you won't tell anyone my secret."

She was silent for a moment, searching for the reason behind the insanity of the last few months, and finally relented. Why was it _she_ always knew the secret and no one else did? She didn't feel it went without believing that it wasn't fair. She nodded slowly, voice crisp, almost business-like when she spoke. "You have my word."

"Thank you," he nodded.

Sarah slowly, quietly came closer to him until she was just inches away. Batman gazed down at her and watched as she lifted her hands to his face. He suddenly grabbed her wrists when her fingers touched his cowl. He wasn't certain he wanted her to see the Batman without the mask on.

Sarah didn't flinch when he grasped at her, but she gasped openly, and breathed, "Please… I need to see for myself."

Reluctantly, he released her wrists and lowered his head. But before she could bring her hands to his cowl again, he reached forward and gently brushed back the hair that was hanging in her face. Sarah let him touch her now too before she tucked her fingers under the edge of the cowl and began to pull upward…

Out fell a mane of golden hair, an aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and mis-matched eyes; one blue and one a deep brown. Sarah shut her eyes and opened them again. She stared into Bruce's handsome face gazing back at her. For a moment, she wanted to believe she was taking off Jareth's mask, a mask she had dreamed of taking off herself.

Bruce's hair had become disheveled, his skin was almost pallid, and prominent dark circles lay under his eyes. His hand had moved from her hair to her shoulder and traced down her arm before it fell to rest on her waist.

Sarah shivered slightly. A bat was a threat. It came out at night, it was something you couldn't really see, but it has the capacity to bite you, to suck your blood even. The bat had been synonymous with evil for millennia in most parts of the world – and because it was an unacknowledged part in all of us, people were fascinated by that evil. Even Sarah. And Bruce had embraced this paradigm.

She could feel his warm breath on her face as he pulled her toward him. He was breathing much heavier than normal. She swallowed, her eyes drawn to his lips as he gazed intently into her eyes, and for the first time in many long weeks she found it hard to hold his gaze. The temperature in the room seemed to have risen, as did the tension.

She held his cowl in her hands and looked down at it. "I hope that wasn't too hard for you," she murmured.

He shook his head. "Not as much as I thought," he revealed softly.

She looked up again and drew back at the strange look in his eyes and the low sound of his voice.

"Good…" she whispered, trying to remind herself to breathe.

Bruce saw the expression on her face and composed himself again. Dropping his hand, he stood tall, and waited for her to finish glancing over him.

"This looks like it does a lot more than make you look scary," she said when she was finished. "Communications and combat in one system. You're a walking armory." She cast her gaze over his chest. "Everything you're wearing is bullet-proof?"

He squared his shoulders, liking the worried tone in her voice. "Triple-weave kevlar," he replied. "Bulletproof and for camouflage."

She sighed and tilted her head back staring at him, fascinated, and pitying. "Do you ever regret your decision?" she asked him. "To serve selflessly and give up that one chance of sharing your life with someone else… someone you love." The last words had just slipped out. And though it was dark, she knew that Bruce could see the pink flush that had spread on her cheeks.

"Our choices reflect who we are," Bruce answered simply. "And there's nothing more to it."

Sarah looked at him straight in the eyes, and neither Sarah's nor his wavered. "And you serve Gotham?"

"I serve justice."

"Perhaps you do." She blinked several times, looking down at his cowl in her hands. She sighed and put the cowl aside, out of his reach. "Why can't you talk to someone?"

"Like therapy?" he could barely hide the disgust in his voice. "To finally be cured of the Batman?" He stared at the cowl, and the empty black eyes stared back at him. "The reality is the Batman is becoming the true persona, and Bruce Wayne is becoming the mask. But I know the white and the black and the right and the wrong. I live by that code. Laws are open to interpretation. Mine isn't."

"What you're doing is outside the law," she countered. "But you've been a citizen of Gotham since you were born," she murmured softly, "you didn't have a choice. Gotham has been without law for a long time."

"Why did you come to Gotham?"

"I had an opportunity and I took it."

Bruce's eyes narrowed with intent. "You ran from something."

"I'm not one of your prisoners, Bruce," Sarah persisted, but kept her voice calm. "I didn't break any law. This is where _your_ law doesn't apply." He scowled and reached for his cowl. But she leapt to it first, pulled it back, and held it to her chest. She wasn't finished yet. "Why…" she began, "how did you become this way? What made you into this?" Tell me. I already know who you are. Why did you choose the bat?"

He was frustrated at her questions, she could see that much. There was that flare to his nostrils when he breathed, a tautness around his eyes, his jaw had clenched. He had gone very, very still. She felt she could have walked up to him and pushed as hard as she could but he wouldn't have budged; being the impenetrable pillar that he was.

There was suspicion and a certain wariness that she hadn't seen in him until now. The look in his eyes was that of a man facing a gun pointed at him, and wasn't sure whether to call the bluff of being loaded or not.

Bruce was much bigger than she was, and of course much stronger. He was possibly the world's best fighting machine, a master of shadows, a highly disciplined vigilante. He was feared by Gotham's seedy underbelly and even by the people he was trying to protect. He was more than human, more than just a man, and yet he stared at her as if he had just met his most worthy adversary.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said. From the look on his face, Sarah presumed that it was because he didn't know what else to say; perhaps he said it out of fear or remorse, or both. "You want to know everything?" he drawled softly, but she read the hint of pain behind his voice.

"Yes," she said without holding back.

He held his head stiffly, his gloved hands clenched. "When I was young, I fell into an old well that was in the greenhouse of Wayne manor. It felt like I fell forever… I was in shock. Bats exploded from the darkness, filling the air. I fell into a giant bat cave. I remember screaming… My father finally came for me. He told me that the bats were afraid of me, and that's why they attacked. I was a child; I didn't really believe what he was telling me. But that night, I felt real fear, real anxiety for the first time. My parents took me to the theater that night… it was an opera. With people dressed in black and spinning in the air like enormous bats. I became so frightened that I made my parents take me out of there. That's when it happened, when I lost my family. I took responsibility for it. I took responsibility for everything."

Not a wave of emotion passed through Bruce's voice or his face. He remained as stoic as the most seasoned warrior. "Years later, the man who killed my parents was on trial. He had shared a cell with the mob leader Carmine Falcone and was ready to testify against him in exchange for early parole. I had a gun in my pocket. I was ready to kill him. Reporters were everywhere, swarming around the building; they took him out the side where I was waiting for him. I remember breathing hard, deciding whether to kill him right then and there in front of everybody. Then, all of a sudden, this reporter thrust a gun at his chest and fired. She was working for Falcone… I couldn't look away. The man who murdered my whole world was dead, not fifteen feet away from me."

Bruce stared ahead into nothing. He became distant; to Sarah, he could have been a thousand miles away from her. "All those years I wanted to kill him. I thought they deserved justice, but I what I really wanted was revenge. I thought they were the same. But they're never the same. Justice is about harmony... revenge is about you making yourself feel better. For years I was using my grief as an excuse to do nothing. Meanwhile, the streets of my city were dark, crowded and frightening. I couldn't look beyond my own pain… The city was rotting. The man who died outside that courthouse wasn't the cause, he was the effect. Corruption was killing Gotham and him being dead didn't help that – it made matters worse because Falcone walked. He carried on flooding the city with crime and drugs… Falcone may not have killed my parents, but he destroyed everything they stood for... No one would touch Falcone because he kept the bad people rich and the good people scared. I confronted Falcone once, thinking I could take him down right then and there, but I was foolish and unprepared. From that moment on, I knew I was never going to be safe again, so I took matters into my own hands."

Bruce continued, but almost reluctantly. "I joined a secret society known as the League of Shadows. It was an organization committed to bringing justice to the world. They trained me until I was able to defeat any of the League in single combat, but I rejected them when the time came for me to kill a criminal to prove my commitment to justice. I realized that I must retain my compassion or I would become like the criminals I fought. The League's base was destroyed but some survived. The incident at the Narrows was their attempt to destroy Gotham. Their reason to attack was because they felt the city became too corrupt, and the League was there to balance that corruption. _They_ had burned my former home, the home I had with my parents, to the ground."

Sarah chewed on her lip, and tried to squeeze back the tears that were forming in her eyes. Bruce was the quintessential tragic hero that no one could save. Superman became a hero because he subscribed to wholesome idealism, but Batman was motivated by personal tragedy and a troubled past. He was confronted with the most horrible tragedy that no one could imagine. She didn't fear him nearly as much as she had before. She admired, and pitied him.

She inhaled, deep and sharp, and ran a free hand over her hair to compose herself. "So, why the bat?" she asked him.

Bruce was still staring off into nothing. "I needed something elemental, something terrifying."

"Terrifying to you," her voice was gentle. She clutched the cowl in her fingers before handing it back to him. "By choosing that symbol, you conquered your own fear."

Bruce snapped back to attention and took his cowl back without any reluctance. "My father told me that all creatures feel fear, even the scary ones. I am not exempt from fear. I have felt it… more than once." He pulled the cowl back on himself and turned back into the Batman. "I don't intend to remain this way forever," his nightmare voice was returning. "One day, Gotham will be whole again and there won't be a need for Batman anymore."

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She clasped her hands behind her neck and stared at him. "But now you've kicked the hornet's nest. These mobsters want you gone so they can go back to the way things were. But there is no going back, is there?" Batman was silent. "You've changed things. Forever."

"At least the scum of this city has something to fear now." He looked into her eyes that were threatening tears. He scowled at the sight. He didn't need anyone pitying him for what he was. "And now you know everything," he rasped.

"Now I know everything," she repeated softly. Some of the tension from before had returned as she looked out Krista's bedroom window. It was still early in the night. Her friends wouldn't be returning for hours. "So, what now?" she asked him.

"You come back with me."

"Oh?" she raised her brows. "And how are you going to do that? Drag me by the hair?"

"If I have to," he replied simply.

Well, this wasn't a good start. She wasn't ready to go back with Bruce yet. He would want more answers from her, and he would be disgustingly nice and charming about it. Telling him the entire truth was never a reality and she intended to keep it that way. At least for now. It wouldn't do to put up a fight, which is exactly what she wanted to do and exactly what he was expecting her to do.

She bit her lip and pretended to conceal her pride. "I'm tired of hiding," she whispered. She wasn't afraid to let a tear fall now. "I… need your protection."

Their eyes met and he stared at her now without any emotion. He was still a mystery to her. After tearing his soul open for her to see, he still possessed a darkness that was as smooth as silk and as dangerous as a slim blade. That formidable power shimmered in his cool, gray eyes. It was hard to look away, but for Sarah to escape, she had to be as persuasive as possible.

"I'm getting a little tired of couch surfing, anyway," she shrugged. "Just don't lock me up this time," she told him, almost hopefully.

"I promise."

She sniffed and wiped her tears from her cheeks. "Umm…" she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over at the door, hesitantly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I just need to use the bathroom." She gave a shaky laugh. "You really did scare the hell out of me." He narrowed his eyes at her, but she persisted. "You can be right outside the door. There's no window so I wouldn't try and run. Not that I would get far."

Batman didn't say anything, but brushed past and guided her to the door. He opened it for her and looked down the hallway before letting Sarah out and guiding her to the bathroom. She flipped the light on and everything was as it should have been: toilet, sink, shower, and no window.

"_I want my sanctuary,"_ she thought desperately. _"I want Jareth."_

She gave another reassuring, and even embarrassing smile to Batman before stepping inside. They watched each other as she slowly closed the bathroom door.

* * *

The door closed and Sarah shut her eyes, mouthing, "Oh god, I hope that worked."

"Did he hurt you?"

Sarah nearly collapsed in relief to hear Jareth's voice. It had worked.

"No," she breathed, turning and opening her eyes to him. "No, I'm fine." She flicked her eyes over the sitting room where she could see her moon casting its unearthly light. "Such a neat trick," she sighed.

"Sarah…"

She cut him off. "Where were you?"

His expression suddenly turned dark. "Indisposed."

She crossed her arms over chest. "Really?"

"Really," he repeated, but his voice was a warning to not push the matter any further. "I had other matters to attend to."

Her anger started to flare up again. "Only one of the most dangerous and wanted and…" she was fighting for words, "misunderstood and conflicted men I've _ever _met just threw me across a room, and, and…" the tears were starting to form again, "threatened me… and didn't tell me one lie tonight." Sarah put her head against the door and looked away from Jareth. "And now I feel bad that I left him." Her voice had turned into a murmur, but Jareth heard nonetheless.

His tone was eerily quiet and unnerving. "You would want to go back to him?"

Sarah shivered, she could just feel Jareth's temper rising. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what," his leather had a menacing grown to it when he leaned further down, his breath on her neck, "did you mean by it?"

Sarah's eyes tightened, and she went very still. When she spoke it was barely whisper, hissed harshly between her teeth, "I mean I feel sorry for him." She flicked her eyes up to him. "I understand now. I still don't understand him, but I know why he is… the way he is."

He flinched back, his eyes wary. "The man confined you under his lock and key."

Sarah pushed herself from the door and from Jareth. "He didn't know what to do with me," she said defensively, "he told the truth when he said he got scared. I didn't go back with him because…" she looked back at Jareth over her shoulder, and he stared back, his eyes still boring into her. She looked away and shook her head. "I don't know why…"

A soft pause broke between the two, it was needed to cool their anger down.

"I think you need some rest," he advised, though not too gently.

"I'll rest when I want to," she bit back. She could feel his eyes on her back, waiting for her to do something. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she did want to be alone. She shifted her weight unconsciously, and then scoffed under her breath. "Good night."

Without looking back, Sarah went to her bedroom, and shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes again and put her back against the door. She slid down to the floor and rested her elbows on her knees, pushing her hair back with her fingers. She sat like this for about an hour, letting her thoughts take over.

She didn't hate Jareth, and she didn't hate Bruce. Hatred, like jealousy, was just another one of those destructive emotions that had the tendency to destroy us from the inside out. We think that our hatred hurts the other person, but in reality, it only hurts us in the end. Forgiveness, of course, is the balm. Both Jareth and Bruce needed redemption and their silent cries for love and acceptance needed to be heard. In order for them to be redeemed, they must be forgiven.

* * *

**AN:** So it's come to my attention that it's been (count 'em) FOUR years since I started this fic. I promise I will finish this before the next Batman movie comes out which is about a year away. eek! Many thanks to Cassie for her love =)

Shalom y Amor


	28. Push

Sarah woke the next morning thinking that the night before had all been a strange, wild dream. That none of it had ever happened. But it did. Which had made it all the more weird, and wonderful.

After returning to her room, she stayed up late into the night, her mind reeling through thoughts and emotions at a mile a minute. The little sleep she did get was a dreamless one. She was grateful for that.

Looking out her window, she found the morning sun more golden than it should have been; the sky was a clearer blue, the sea was moving in a softer dance.

She frowned openly.

She needed to see something real today, something that was genuine and taken at face value. Last night, Bruce had shown her his dark side, but by revealing that he had also shown her his human side. And she had abandoned him in the time when he had shown his most vulnerable, weakest part of his self: his soul.

She still felt an immense amount of guilt that was weighing heavily on her. The feeling alone prompted her to get out of bed, shower and dress quickly, and make herself something to eat before she started her day.

A day that she was going to spend outside. She had decided on it the second she saw that bright sun shining through her clear, crystal window. Her life shouldn't have to be made up of candy castles and glamorous tricks all the time. Bruce had showed her the necessity of a valid and thick-skinned existence. One day among Gotham and its people should be enough for her.

Or would it? She had to question the possibility of running into Bruce. He would have surely doubled his efforts to find her now. And if he did find her, would she go back with him now, knowing who he was and what he did?

Yes, she would.

There was a part of Sarah that knew, really knew in her heart that they were well matched and if they worked to accept who they were, then it could work between them. That was why she also decided to tell him everything. He wouldn't believe it at first, and who would? But she was more than capable of proving it. She would, of course, have to prove it without getting Jareth involved. Of whom, she had not seen at all this morning, and _that_ was a relief for her. It gave her time to think of what she would tell Bruce and how. Because she intended to tell him everything, from the Labyrinth to how she had disappeared last night.

It made more sense, in a real, sensible world to at least try and have a human existence with Bruce. Everything Jareth had done for her, she was eternally grateful for. But Jareth was still hiding; he hadn't dared stripped off his mask for her. Bruce had.

Sarah grabbed her jacket and headed for the secret door. She knew exactly where she wanted to go. She opened the door and stepped inside; and when she stepped out she was facing a wide, glass window. On the other side was a quiet, peaceful morning but made chaotic by the rush of auto traffic and pedestrians – mostly hipsters and artists who were carrying their coffee or tea. Inside, she immediately recognized the dark paneled wood and the dark red and black walls that The Mad Hatter Tea House was famous for.

"Sarah!"

She started and pressed herself against the tea house's bathroom door. Looking over, she found Connor and two of her cast mates, Jack and Christina, sharing a table. She froze for a minute. But they seemed genuinely surprised and happy to see her. They hadn't heard about the incident between her and Bianca last night, at least not yet.

She relaxed a bit and walked up to their table. "We didn't see you come in," Connor said, "want to join us?"

Sarah immediately pulled out a chair. "Sure, if it's okay."

Her friends had let Sarah in on their conservation right away, and Sarah was all too happy to be included. Yet, as soon as she had stepped out that secret door, she had this very strange feeling of foreboding, the way animals sense a storm coming. She could either lose her job very soon because of Bianca, Bruce might not believe a word she would tell him, or she and Jareth could be getting into a vicious fight over the limits of her freedom. But he hadn't tried to stop her yet. Regardless, she needed one good moment before this premonition came to pass.

* * *

"Yuri, she's here."

"Where?"

"Just outside Gotham Village."

A long pause on the other end of the line. "Take her."

* * *

He checked his wristwatch for the third time. It was 5:15. Bruce should have been back at Wayne Enterprises by now. He was confident Lucius Fox would take over for him; he always did whenever Bruce didn't show for a late meeting. His eyes darted along the long street, almost frightened to miss her. He checked his watch again. 5:17.

The street wasn't exactly swarming with people. This was a quieter part of Gotham Village, but it was also where most of Sarah's friends tended to socialize. When he wasn't prowling the theater in the daytime, he was scanning the streets nearby and around Krista's apartment. He had planned on finding her, and coaxing her back to his penthouse; he knew that throwing her over his shoulder wouldn't work anymore – it just caused more problems. He meant what he said, he wouldn't lock her up, but he still needed answers from her. Most especially as to how she disappeared from Krista's last night. There was absolutely no way she could have escaped and slipped under his radar - literally. He had checked every corner of that apartment, he had scanned the whole block with every piece of equipment he had; Sarah had simply disappeared into thin air. It infuriated him to no end.

He sat in his Lamborghini gazing at the street and ignored some curious stares. It was rare when a car like that was parked in a neighborhood like this.

5:20, 5:25, 5:30.

Bruce rested his head against the seat; watching and waiting.

Then he saw her walking down the street, her hair long and loose and swaying in the cold breeze. His heart sped as he reached down to ignite the engine, but then he stopped. He saw her smiling. She was clearly laughing at something, though he couldn't see what. She was like a child, excited and playful in the middle of a cold, dreary day. Bruce could see that she was thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

"_Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, of shoes, or of riddles... like a butterfly she flew about in the gold of the sun, in her golden curls she the crown of spring carried, and her eyes was the suns, so bright blue and clear but above them all she loved a little bird…"_

He had recited that poem once with her, when they first met, when she was still a glow of light in his otherwise dark world. Seeing her like this now - she was happy; and he wasn't sure if he wanted to drag her back into his life of shadows and secrets.

He looked away. He promised her he wouldn't pursue Superman any further, nor would he have locked her away in his penthouse tower. He kept his promises.

Maybe it was better this way, to leave things as they were. He could learn to let something go, for once. They both had secrets aplenty and maybe some were best left untouched. He would always watch her, but now he would have to teach himself to do it from afar, they would be worlds away. He needed to learn to focus on the Batman's drive, and less on Bruce's emotions.

He looked back and watched her walk away with a heavy heart until she turned the corner and disappeared down the other street…

* * *

The sound of her boots against the concrete sounded almost comforting to her ears. The numerous pubs she glanced into, the trains rushing above her head, the bite of the cool wind from the lake against her face, the smell of gasoline and the rush of traffic in the streets… it felt good to be back in Gotham City again, even if it was a dark, cloudy day. To be out of the isolation, to be among the nameless crowds again, even if they were strangers, was a thousand times better to Sarah than to spend another day alone.

She looked up at the old library that bordered the bohemian neighborhood of Gotham Village. Up high near the roof were giant stone owls with open wings, as if ready to take flight. They were placed within a niche of flowing, almost tentacle-like vines of stone and cold metal. They stared down at the people below them like prey, daring them to gaze longer at their frightening splendor. She didn't stop or even blink when one turned its head to her. She smiled. It narrowed its eyes in response, but Sarah could see it was more annoyed than angry at her.

"_Where are you going?"_

The wind tickled Sarah's ear in the form of Jareth's voice. She shivered and brought her shoulders up, but her smile still remained. "Nowhere…" she whispered.

"_You should not be here."_

She almost tripped over a crystal ball that rolled in front of her feet, but she skipped over it, and kicked it aside.

"_Cheeky girl."_

She felt a finger wrap itself around a lock of hair, then give a light tug. She clutched her head with one hand and looked back, but of course, no one was there. She grinned over her shoulder.

She ignored the peculiar stares of other passerby's on the street, they glanced at her and took her for an eccentric; but it didn't matter to her. She held secrets, desires, and even fears in her heart that no one else could have dreamed of having. One of these secrets she had to keep from Jareth now, which was no easy task.

So she kept walking, her head ducked down to keep from seeing Jareth's reflection in one of the windows; frowning deeply at her.

Sarah turned a corner and instantly caught a chill. She shivered and pulled her shoulders up. But then she stopped when she realized that this was no ordinary chill, someone else was watching her. No one was behind her and no one ahead, but she knew someone besides Jareth or even Bruce was close by.

She stood still and listened to the wind; a wind that was eerily silent and seemed to creep up from the ground itself. It grew stronger and stronger, turning into a low rumbling tremor. The air around her was almost electrifying – pulsing and swelling, pushing her fear to the greatest extent. The anticipation of something evil about to happen was overwhelming.

The wind picked up and blew pieces of stray paper and garbage past her. She turned her head away, her hair flying like a sail, and through her black tendrils she saw a man step around the corner just in front of her and block her path.

She stood frozen, unable to move, her breathing was getting shallow… she felt tremendous pressure begin to bear down against her skull.

She turned back the way she came, but another man – bigger than the first – stood in her way. Her heart beat against her ribcage like a hammer, her head was swimming in fear. She looked ahead of her and found a street empty of pedestrians, but filled with parked cars. There was a chance more men would have been hiding, but it was a chance she was willing to take.

Sarah glanced at the man standing a half block away and suddenly jumped into the street.

The two men rushed after her. She kept her chest and head up as she ran across the street and circled around cars, back toward the busy street from where she came.

* * *

Bruce still hadn't moved from his spot. He stared at the corner where Sarah had turned just a few minutes ago. He should have left but something made him stay. He kept his eyes fixed on the corner until he saw what he never wanted to see happen. Sarah was racing down the street, clearly terrified. Two thuggish-looking men were chasing her, and getting closer…

Bruce's Lamborghini suddenly tore across the street after her. He had to turn the wheel abruptly at the large center divider in the road and follow Sarah down the street, desperately hoping she would be able to see him.

* * *

Sarah ran off between two buildings. Sprinting headlong down the narrow corridor, skidded around a corner and nearly crashed into a five foot wall. She scrambled over it and landed in a crouch, looking ahead of her before racing forward. She kept running, but the further she ran, the warmer her chest became. It grew warmer and warmer until her chest was burning almost painfully. But she didn't stop running.

Bruce roared past a line of traffic. He floored it, yanked the wheel to pull up onto the sidewalk, and sped through parked and waiting cars. The few people on the sidewalks just barely moved out of his way in time. He scanned the thin sea of people, frantically.

Terrified beyond reason, Sarah raced down a stairway, one figure against two huge men. She made it to the bottom of the steps, making progress along the abandoned sidewalk next to the river. But so were the thugs. She raced down a street, and then another and another, looking up briefly at the overhead pass through her mess of black hair.

Bruce's Lamborghini was just above her, racing against the traffic. She recognized his sports car within a second, and she pushed herself forward. She didn't dare stop for a breath now, she ran up a long, winding cement staircase; almost at street level now, Bruce would be waiting for her…

Her lungs were on fire, her legs burned; her skin became damp with exhaustion. Her breath came in ragged gasps until there was hardly anything left within her. But it didn't matter, she must keep running.

Her whole body was numb from pain and exhaustion, but her mind was alert when she finally took that last step.

But her body had slammed into a large, unmoving chest, hands grabbed at her, and she tried to scream but her mouth was instantly covered. Panic instantly took over. She couldn't see straight, couldn't even think straight. Her feet nearly left the ground when she was dragged across the empty sidewalk to a waiting van.

The man who had been waiting for her started to bundle her into the van, and the two men who were chasing her, jumped in before her, yelling at the driver to move.

Sarah had her arms pinned to her, her body tightly pressed against the large man that had her trapped in his grip. She twisted her head just in time to see Bruce as the van began to skid off.

And then nothing. Everything went black.

Bruce brought the Lamborghini to a halt when a large delivery truck ambled in his way, followed by a heavier stream of traffic and pedestrians. Bruce pounded the steering wheel with his fist and howled with hopeless fury...

* * *

Sarah's world was dark and the only sound that barely broke through was deeply muffled. Slowly, consciousness started to seep through her mind again; though it was fuzzy and sent her vision in a dizzying whirl. She was moving. Or rather, moving in a vehicle, and she wasn't alone.

Her eyes cracked open warily. She moaned lightly as she felt a sharp pain on her temple. She was still numb from the neck down, but she made every effort to move her hands beneath her. But to no avail. Her hands had been bound and she only succeeded in lifting her head just slightly.

A quick movement of a silhouette at the corner of her eye followed by the heavy stench of sweat caused Sarah to flinch back. Her head slowly turned in apprehension to the source of it. Then the sight of turquoise eyes – she had seen them before. Her blood ran cold when she realized who it was leaning down to hiss in her ear.

"You know," Yuri whispered with malice, "I've seen girls much prettier than you. I've been with much more girls prettier than you. I don't understand it."

She didn't respond. She was too frightened to speak or even breathe. She remained perfectly still. Even as her whole body became tight with tension, her throat threatened to swell with fear, the chills running over her neck and arms until a hand covered her mouth again, gagging her with the overpowering scent of chlorofoam. She struggled under the hand and under the stench until she went still and was swept again into nothingness...

* * *

Shards of broken glass littered the floor of Sarah's hidden suite, her furniture had been capsized; it had looked like a mob had stormed in and smashed and destroyed every corner of the place. But Jareth acted alone, his eyes raging in bloodcurdling fury. When he had nothing else to destroy, he had white bolts of energy fire from his hands, it smoldered the walls in black blisters. Bolts of white lightning suddenly charged at a massive level as rage twisted his face into a fierce roar. He stepped back and turned his bolt-shooting hands upward, the white lightning arching backward and around him, raining off of his head and flowing down over his black cape.

His deafening wail saturated the air; the walls exploded all around him as the lightning burst out and spread over his body. Shards of glass from the window flew inwards; shattering to the floor as white hot bolts cracked and flared.

All around him, the scene spun out of control, torrents of stone falling, white fire in the ceiling above as his scream echoed throughout, vibrating through the air. A high-pitched whine buzzed in the taut air, as a score of spirits were consumed by his power.

The white lightning spun upward into a black void, arching as it disappeared. Finally, when it was completely sucked through, the void exploded, creating a rush of air throughout the room. Jareth's cape that was whipped by the wind and he staggered forward, weak from the strain and the overuse of his powers. He dropped his hands by his sides, his whole body was singeing, his breath deep and rasped, there was nothing left of the storm but the dust that settled.

His energy was spent but he was still seething with fury. His voice matched the roar of Hell's most feared. "WHERE IS SHE?"

"_An oubliette waitsss for her…"_ his dark mass of goblins answered him.

"She is _not_ in my kingdom!" He paced furiously, seeming ten feet taller with his fierce stance. "You kept me from her!" he accused, "I didn't even see them coming!"

"_Our dear King,"_ their voices were of the most sickeningly sweet tones, _"where do you think ssshe wasss going? Certainly not to take a chance walk…"_

His black suit still crackled, bits of ash tumbled from his shoulders and torso. "I didn't know where she was going, she told me nothing!"

"_Ssshe wasss going to sssee __**him**__…"_

Jareth stopped. A dead silence hung in the now ruined suite of Sarah's dreams.

"Him…" he repeated slowly, quietly.

He knew who _'him'_ was.

His black ensemble was slowly melting itself into another shape, as if it were tired of its ridiculous molting. It was brandishing itself into a monstrous suit of armor. As it did, Jareth seethed with an inner fury and jealousy that he had only known once before. It burned in his chest and spread throughout his body like a blistering chill. And for every chill, a sharp, silver scallop grew over him.

He had provided her with everything she could possibly desire and had seen to her every comfort. He was even determined to make that ungrateful girl his queen and what had she done? Sneaked behind his back and ran to another man! A man as dark as him! Throwing her into an 'oubliette' was no more than she deserved. Maybe it would humble her, make her see that he was entitled to the respect she refused to give him. Yes, an oubliette would do her good.

"_She will see,"_ the thought burned in his mind, _she will see…"_

"By the gods," he rasped in his throat, "she will see!"

Before he left, Jareth went into Sarah's bedroom and tore her canopied bed to shreds.

* * *

A white van waited solitary on the top floor of an empty parking structure. Night had enshrouded the city, and in this part of The Narrows, no one but the thugs waiting inside would have dared come here. Two black SUV's pulled onto the top floor next to them. A large man emerged from one with Yuri. A bodyguard stood nearby and pointed up at the sky. Yuri peered up at the bat signal and shrugged. They had more men and more guns this time around. He moved to the second SUV, reached in and dragged out a panic-stricken, wild-eyed Sarah by her hair. He dragged her toward the battered white van. The van's rear doors opened and two armed thugs emerged, carrying barrels while a third hovered in the dark interior.

Still bound at the wrists, Sarah struggled to remain on her feet while her knees felt like liquid weighing her down. She saw the group of men emerging from the van part around a figure coming through. She openly gasped at the sight of a Scarecrow wearing a mask seemingly created from a poorly-stitched burlap sack with a hangman's noose dangling around the neck.

"You Russians finally caught her," the voice under the mask spoke, "and I came prepared as promised."

Sarah stared and trembled in terror, her heart pounding and her skin crawling.

"Batches of only the finest narcotics I can offer," the Scarecrow gestured to his van.

"Except your experiments," Yuri nodded his head toward Sarah.

Sarah's knees buckled, and she shivered under the weight of her fear.

The Scarecrow saw her and his voice turned cold, calculating. "You…" he said, "you have caused me more trouble than I could have imagined." He moved toward her with slender grace, a silent phantom relishing the coming prey. Sarah pressed herself back into the shoulders of Yuri's men. They pushed her back without mercy.

Sarah winced and turned her head away. He had come too close for her to bear. "You're all mine now," he whispered.

She felt a cold bile rise up to her throat, and it stayed there.

The Scarecrow turned his head past hers and inclined it with overzealous air. "Thank you, Yuri. Please, let's do business again soon." He turned away and made a gesture in the air. Guns still in their hands, the Scarecrow's men came up fast to Sarah, grabbed her, and dragged her to their van.

Sarah was too petrified to struggle, and the bile that rose in her throat refused to go back down. But she had learned that putting up a fight wouldn't get her far and it would only make things worse. She needed to remain in one piece and alert. She kept her eyes on the bat signal as they carried her away, because when the time came, she needed everything that was in her to keep up with the Batman when he came for her.

* * *

**AN: **Many thanks to all reviews and many more thanks to cassie =)

Shalom y Amor


	29. The Blue Flower

Sarah was curled up in the darkness. Vile cold darkness. When she opened her eyes, she dearly wished she was in another nightmare. She would take one nightmare after another over this. This was a horrible, bleak reality. It consisted of a shadowed pit with a small window high above her. But no light shone through. There was a good chance she was underground, but in an underground that didn't include a Labyrinth or a Goblin King.

Sarah remembered her time in the oubliette. But this was far worse than that, there were people somewhere nearby who wished to harm her. She would have given anything to hear Hoggle's laugh right about now.

But she could only hear the steady drip of water. It sounded like a heartbeat. It would be comforting at first, but it would start to grate on her nerves soon enough.

Her hands had been unbound. She rose to her full height from the ground and tried to peer out the window. Nothing. It was too high, and she could only see more darkness. She looked around and took in her surroundings. Just a dank, dark cellar - an unrelenting darkness. They hadn't even left her a flashlight or a lamp.

But she could hear a steady drone, sometimes it stopped and sometimes it was continuous. The sound of a train. But the musty smell of earth and sewers had definitely given it away – she was indeed under the streets of Gotham. Where exactly, she couldn't even begin to say. She could have been anywhere.

The chill air of this place was starting to seep through the lining of her thin jacket. A brief check had put some of her fears to rest. She found nothing bleeding or broken, but the tender spots on her arms would surely turn into large bruises.

Sarah's hand immediately went to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt her diamond still pressed against her bare chest. It lay just between her breasts. Fortunately, these men hadn't tried to force themselves on her sexually. She prayed that it wouldn't come to that.

She could still barely see her hand in front of her face, and started to slowly put her palms on the walls and look for a door or an opening anywhere. The walls felt damp and filthy, but nothing pricked her hands. This cellar was probably twice the size of the last oubliette she had been in before. It seemed just as dirty, however. She prayed she wouldn't find a morbid, decaying body, or bones. But it was just her in this cold cellar.

Finally she came upon a door – large and metal. She found the lever and tried to pry it open several times but it was locked tight. She didn't want to make too much of a noise, and instead of pounding on it, she brushed her hands over it, looking for another slit or panel that would lift and let her peek through her enclosure. But there was still nothing.

Hours later, Sarah felt sure she had touched every surface in the cellar at least twice and discovered nothing else. Of course there were would be no bumps or grooves, hidden doors, and certainly no hidden broom closets. There was no reason to expect Bruce to find her so quickly, or even know where exactly she was.

She slid down the wall, sitting as softly as possible, but still sending up clouds of dust, and slipped her scraped hand under her chin in thought. The silence unnerved her. But she had been locked up before. She hated to admit it, but she would much rather be under Bruce's watch than here.

He would come for her, and if not him then Jareth.

"_Are you sure?"_

It was a small voice in her head, not Jareth's voice, but her own sense of doubt. Where was he when she was taken? When only moments before he had been whispering in her ear, tugging at her hair. Where was he now?

She started to pace the dark and empty space. _"No, he has to come for me… but he never did before… he was only at my side for company, he never actually helped me escape. But he gave me a place to stay when I had nowhere else to go… and what did I do at the first sign of doubt? I was going back to Bruce…" _She stopped at a wall and slid down, settling on the ground. _"And I abandoned Bruce too… what if no one comes for me?" _

The dust that billowed up when she fell to the ground refused to settle. It invaded her lungs even when she breathed through her nose, irritating her throat. Sarah fought hard against coughing, knowing that it would only make her feel worse, but kept losing the battle. She finally covered her face with her hands and turned away.

"_But I saw him, he tried to come after me…"_

She concentrated on trying to control the shaking of her body and shutting her ears to the deafening drip of water. She tried to visualize her happiest moments, groping for a means to outwit time and find the strength for what she knew lay ahead. She told herself that she had to endure a few hours without her nerves betraying her, until Batman was able to set in motion the heavy machinery of his power and will. She searched her memory for a sunset in Metropolis, a cold winter's night in her hometown, long before the hurricane of events had turned the world upside down. She tried to relive those moments – the clean, fresh air and the blazing moonlight on a still lake. She tried to recall the feeling of owning the world, of being twenty three years old and having her whole life ahead of her, of falling in love, drunk with the elation and surrender that followed.

She didn't know how long she'd spent in this cellar, torturing herself with these thoughts and questions; for every minute that ticked by, she grew more and more anxious. Without any change in the perpetual darkness, she could have spent hours, or even whole days in here.

In this place, she could begin to forget herself completely. But then, she was already starting to a long time ago. She slowly began to see her old life as if through a mirrored fog. Even the time in Bruce's penthouse seemed distant, but her home with her father, Toby, and even Karen seemed worlds away. Toby's smile seemed so blurry to her now, she could see a blue eye, curly blonde hair… but she couldn't put everything together. Children his age grew so fast – she suddenly felt a heavy feeling of guilt weigh her down for not being with him as much as she should be.

Sarah pressed her fist over her mouth to stifle a cough or a sob, she could no longer tell. The water brought a chill to the damp air. It was seeping into her bones, digging into her chest with the aching cough that wouldn't let her alone.

She sat and waited, for that was all she could do. If she stayed in here like this for too long, it would be hard to hold onto one's sense of self in this place. She was already losing it little by little in Bruce's penthouse. This was going to be the precipice. This place was going to test her.

"_But isn't this what you wanted, Sarah? A piece of reality…"_

She suddenly jumped back and pressed herself against the wall when she heard the faint muffle of men's voice not too far. The sound of footsteps soon followed, coming ever closer to the door just across from her…

Sarah watched, heart in her throat, as they slid back the heavy metal door, revealing a tall, lean silhouette of a man.

A harsh, bright light glared into her eyeballs, startling her. She gasped openly as her eyes fluttered from the light, burning into them. The silhouette flipped the flashlight off and tossed it to one of the men behind him. He held up a small lantern in his other hand and turned a dial just slightly. It slowly flared to life.

"Don't move," he commanded.

Sarah froze and blinked furiously. There was a shock that came to her when she heard his lilting voice echoed in what had previously been a deadly silence. Her eyes watered with tears. "Who are you?" she asked, her own voice grating against her ears.

"Shhh…" He soothed, kneeling down to her level. "It is only I, the Scarecrow. Formerly, Dr. Jonathan Crane." The sharp angles of a human face contrasted with the darkness as he came closer to Sarah.

She inched away, pensive by the sharp, strange features this man's face had. The prim coldness of his manner made his features all the more prominent. Bright, incredibly bright blue eyes stared at her with an icy barrenness, cold and merciless. His cheekbones were high and prominent, making the rest of his barely-freckled face sharp, almost skeletal. She feared that if he had tried to kiss her with those strange pink, plump lips, he could suck her soul right of her own mouth.

Sarah could feel a freezing burn coming from his nearness. She fought from shivering. "What do you want with me?" she asked, trying to sound confident and unrifled.

He made a noise with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "What do I want _from _you," he corrected her. With a deft movement of his arm, he set the lamp down beside them, slouched up against the wall, and began to study her.

The bright spots in her vision were starting to fade. His face was truly thin, haggard even, instead of evoking a sharp regality. His brown hair dropped down wildly around his long neck and bony shoulders.

"My lady," Crane spoke in a low voice. This man knew how to use stillness to instill fear. He was much too close. She could feel his cold breath on her throat.

He blinked, looked at her for a moment then laughed softly. "So light…" He reached up a skeletal hand and ran the back of it along her cheek.

Sarah jerked her head back, but Crane's hand flashed out to stop her. Cupping her chin, he forced Sarah to look up but she kept her lashes lowered.

"Tell me," he murmured in a low voice, "Miss Sarah Williams, is it?"

No reply.

"What is it you fear most?"

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

"Ah…" he exhaled, "someone who fears nothing. That is a rarity indeed. But it is a lie. We all have something to fear. Pain, abandonment, judgment, failure… Even your champion has a fear of the dark."

His soft words produced the reaction Crane desired. A tremble coursed through Sarah and her eyes fluttered open wide.

A freezing, burning cold began to seep into Sarah's bones. "He's out there," she barely choked out. "He will find me."

She could see his men behind him stiffen. But Crane seemed to have no fear.

Instead, he emitted irritation using the set of his shoulders and a short exhalation. And without moving even so much as a facial muscle, it became perfectly clear to Sarah that this man had no human heart whatsoever.

Crane tilted his head. "Are you sure?"

Her teeth chattered; her breath came in horrid gulps of air. "You don't know him."

The Scarecrow became rigid. "Oh, I do know him," he paused, and released her chin, "very well. So well in fact, that I'm able to hide right under his nose; so well that he let several young citizens of Gotham die under his watch. So well that I know that he's just as insane as I am."

Sarah tried to think clearly. It was so hard with the ice burning through her skin. "He wouldn't let them…" She jumped back violently as the Scarecrow nearly leapt next to her and grazed his cheek against hers.

"Yes he did," his breath gave her the worst of chills. "He didn't find them in time. I know him so well that I'm able to stay one step ahead of him." Then he suddenly pulled away. "So he won't be able to find you in time either."

Sarah blinked and tried to regain her senses. "I don't believe you." But it was hard to hide the doubt in her voice. Even she was starting to lose faith. It was true that was an alarming number of girls in Gotham that had disappeared and were later found, beaten beyond recognition. And she was staring face to face with the man behind it all.

Crane smiled, enjoying the fear dancing in her eyes. His smile was shrewd and fleeting, it was clear that he was calculating every minute. He signaled to one of his men behind him. The man handed Crane a small briefcase. Crane popped the lock on his briefcase, and smiled at Sarah.

"Would you like to see my mask?"

Sarah shrunk back, and without waiting for an answer, Crane reached into his briefcase.

He pulled a small burlap sack mask out and held it up. "This mask," he said, "has a built-in re-breather, doubling as a gas mask to protect me from the effects of my own toxin. But it allows me to appear terrifying to the victim. I like the relatively simple mask because I'm not a very physically imposing man – I'm more interested in the manipulation of the mind and what that can do."

Sarah watched with increasing dread as Crane slipped the mask over his head and the act perfectly marked the thin line where Dr. Crane ended and the Scarecrow began. The sack with eye holes and twine stitching for a mouth, stared back at her.

There was a brief silence and Sarah made a superhuman effort to remember the sunsets and the winter stars, but her ideas spun too fast and she no longer knew if she was dreaming or if the room was becoming darker. Violent hands lifted her to her feet and held her still, crushing her arms to the bone.

Sarah kept her face turned and her eyes averted. The burlap sac on Scarecrow's head left raw scratches on her face as his breath burned her ear.

"What do you fear?" Scarecrow sighed, "What do you fear?"

Sarah's cry of horror was strangled in the back of her throat. The Scarecrow smiled under his mask, and brought one hand up to trail over her jaw, her ear, and down to her shoulder. Another cold burn passed through his spindly hands.

"They can't stand it..." A cloud of white smoke suddenly erupted in Sarah's face. She screamed and fell back, coughing. "They all scream and cry..."

Sarah looked up wide-eyed at Crane and saw black ooze drip out of the holes in his Scarecrow mask. She screamed again and cowered back at the flames that spewed from his eyes and mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and as soon as she did, everything became a black void. But she felt something trying to enter her body, it was the most revolting thing she had ever felt; disgusting, dirty, and violating. It had her stomach doing loops and churning like a blender, her heart rate skyrocketed. She was unable to hear anything. It was like being in a void, no light and no sound.

* * *

She was weightless, floating through black air.

Staring into the darkness, she didn't know when she slipped in and out of black consciousness. Her sight was suddenly filled with dark images, stalking and hunting her like a trapped animal. Voices whispered insistently from the shadows of her subconscious. Imposing forms grew up out of the fog, taking sinister shapes. A figure towered over her, gripping her with fear. It had no face, just a black abyss inside a hood with eyes that burned like fire.

"_Run, scream, shriek…"_

The voices whispered over and over again. But the fog had turned into a thick, viscous substance. Her voice was paralyzed. Long, black fingers reached for her from the hooded figure. She felt an icy chill as it slowly touched her body, until it was upon her, suffocating her. She knew she was still dreaming and desperately tried to bring herself back to consciousness.

The figure sensed her struggle to awaken and she felt it pull her back into the dream. Terror gripped her as a face began to form around the horrifying blue eyes. She silently screamed and felt powerful arms holding her tightly. As she struggled to free herself, the whispers turned into a single, soothing, familiar voice.

Alfred.

Alfred was just outside her room, returning all of Bruce's missed calls and messages at the penthouse. Sarah didn't need to open her eyes to know that she was safe inside and in her bed. It was all just another nightmare, nothing more.

She stretched out and reached for the blankets. She grabbed a fistful and pulled up, but something pulled them back down.

Her eyes shot open and she sat straight up, but there was no one else in the room with her. She tried pulling the blanket up again but something was holding them down. She pulled again but this time the blankets and sheets violently ripped away from her hand and from the bed.

Her neck suddenly went into a brutal whiplash when the bed began to shake, violently. She screamed, clutching the sheets. She screamed again and grabbed a fistful of pillow when a cold, invisible hand grabbed her ankle. She took the pillow and most of the sheets with her when it started to yank her down.

Sarah thrashed and screamed, crazy with fear that seemed to suffocate her like a thick fog. She clawed at the bed when the cold, clammy hand on her ankle became a tighter grip and pulled her even further down. She landed with a thud on the hardwood floor and scrambled away from whatever had pulled her down, the sheets still tightly wound around her. The bed was still shaking viciously and she began to hear the depraved sound of growling and moaning.

Sarah screamed again and covered her ears, hoping to drown out the demonic sounds all around her. She shut her eyes against the bed and the walls that began to shake mercilessly. Incoherent voices echoed throughout the room and into her mind… she screamed even louder to try and shut them all out.

A pair of hands grabbed her arms and began to shake her. Sarah screamed even louder and lashed out in defense. She felt the hands again and a voice… it was calling her name, it was familiar, good…

"Sarah," the voice again. "Miss…"

She opened her eyes and looked up. Alfred's brow was sweating and he had tears in his once bright eyes.

Sarah's body was shaking so terribly and violently that Alfred wrapped his arms around her to steady her. He held her tight and close, like a small child, and whispered in her ear. "It's alright, miss, it's alright…" The hands began to stiffen around her. "It's alright…" They became thinner. "Nothing to fear…" The voice changed from deep and soothing to low and slick. "Everything to fear…"

Sarah opened her eyes again and looked up into a mask made of a burlap sac.

"No…" she stammered, "No, you can't…"

Sarah, her face ghostly pale, gasped for air. Her hands fell by her sides and she slumped over from Scarecrow's arms with a heavy sob. She was racked with the pain of a spasm tearing through her chest. She rolled over and threw up all over the shoes of one of Scarecrow's men.

The man jumped back and growled his frustration. "You filthy little…!" He was about to kick her in the stomach when the Scarecrow leapt to his feet and pushed the man back.

"No!" he screamed in his face. The man stared at the mask with more than a little fear in his eyes. "Move to touch her again," Scarecrow hissed, "and you'll be my next test subject. And I will not be gentle."

"This is gentle?"

The thickly accented voice came from the door. The Scarecrow turned and only saw the silhouette of a man in the doorway, but the lit cigarette in his mouth brought his turquoise eyes to life.

"No smoking in here," Scarecrow rasped.

Yuri scoffed, but dropped his cigarette anyway, and put it out with his heel.

Sarah had rolled over and carefully eased herself back, leaning gingerly against the wall. But the Scarecrow's man yanked on her arm and she was forced to come to her feet.

Scarecrow raised his hand at the sound of Sarah's cry. "No," he said indifferently. "I'm done with her for now."

She was immediately dropped back to the floor, as insignificant as Yuri's cigarette had been.

Sarah stifled another moan before she rolled back to her knees and crawled into the corner, shivering.

All three men left the cellar and bolted the door shut.

The Scarecrow took off his mask and held it to his chest. "What is it?" Dr. Crane asked Yuri impatiently.

"We need her soon," said Yuri. "For Maroni. So he can see his pretty girl before we kill her."

Crane sighed and shook his head. "I can't give her up to you just yet. My experiments are proving to be quite interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've never seen anything like it before. The first few minutes are completely normal, at least when it comes to the subjects being tested." Crane's voice began to rise with excitement. "But then something brings her back to reality. I'm not sure if it's her own mind or something else entirely. No one can withstand the amount of toxins I'm giving her. Falcone became a shell of a crazed madman with just one dose. But with her," he looked back at Sarah's cell, almost longingly, "for her the toxin is just a cloud of smoke that only gives her nightmares…"

"What exactly do you give her?"

"Heavy doses of psychotropic materials. A hallucinatory vapor derived from a blue flower found near Bhutan."

Yuri's mouth itched for another cigarette. The sooner he got out of The Narrows the better. "The boss wants her in good condition."

"Oh, she will be," Crane assured nodding. "Physically she'll be fine, but mentally, you might want to remind her as to what her name is."

* * *

Sarah sat in the cellar for another ten hours – too nervous to eat or drink, too scared to pace around the walls. It was her fear – white, cold, unconquerable fear that had paralyzed her. It trembled in her hands and rose all the way to her chest and throat where it would choke her.

She didn't know how long she had been in this cell. It had felt like days. The Scarecrow would periodically creep in with one of his men, throw a puff of white smoke into her face and then everything would turn into her own demented Wonderland. Some things she forgot when she woke, others she pushed to the back of her mind praying to never think of them again.

Dreams haunted her consciousness just as consciousness haunted her nightmares. When she didn't dream of a reality that threatened to kill her, she dreamt of shadowed places, mangled creatures covered in blood, she heard voices of children crying in the walls of the crumbling Labyrinth she could not find her way out of. Every corner was a dead end, every other step disintegrated beneath her feet, yellow eyes followed her every move. And each time she was lost deeper inside the maze.

Deep voices that belonged to men cried out her name, begging for help. She knew all of those voices by name. Then she heard others calling. First it was Toby, then Krista, her parents, her mother, and then voices she didn't recognize. She would run down the long, twisted paths looking for openings or cracks that she could reach into. But nothing would give. They would reach to a crescendo, screaming for her help, and then before the nightmare ended, arms, fingers, and hands reached out and grabbed her…

She was jerked back by two strong hands, and her head went into a whiplash. Having been dragged out of her mindless reverie, the look on her face was murderous; she yanked hard on the hands around her arms out of instinct, but she was quickly held down and made to look back into the face of the Scarecrow.

"Where do you think you are?" he asked her.

This was the worst part. Waking up in the same, dark place. Her head swayed. "Underground," she hissed through her hair. "Near the subways."

The Scarecrow tilted his head. The nearest subways that were still in operation were at least two miles away. It was impossible for anyone to hear that. She should have been a drooling mess by now, but instead she was hearing and sensing things that no human could have.

"Are you afraid, yet?"

She fought to suppress a shudder, and she exhaled long and deeply. "No."

He smiled under his mask. "You really should be. Tell me this truth, then. Do you enjoy pain?"

She shook her head. Pressing her lips together, she tried hard not to cry out, or to let tears escape her eyes.

The Scarecrow leaned forward, forcing Sarah to look him in the eye. "Here's the truth of the matter, Sarah. Are you ready?"

Sarah could actually see his face twist into such a malevolent sneer that he didn't even need to wear the mask to be terrifying.

"We humans have so many different complexities and insecurities; and the world enjoys suffering and pain. It is neither good nor bad, it is simply human nature. Ever since we were expelled from paradise, we have been suffering, making other people suffer, or watch other people suffer. It's beyond our control."

Sarah shifted back slightly. Her mind had become so hazy that it felt like all she could do was fall back and sleep for twelve hours straight. But a dreamless sleep would never come.

"Pain itself is a very powerful drug," the Scarecrow continued. "It can bring pleasure or peace; it's in our daily lives, in our hidden suffering, the sacrifices we make. We always find a way of being with pain, of flirting with it, and making it part of our lives."

Sarah leaned even more into the Scarecrow, glaring at him with contempt. "I don't believe that. No one wants to suffer."

The Scarecrow seemed to study Sarah under his mask. He seemed to consider her, then seemed to sigh.

Sarah jerked back and hissed a mouthful of air through her teeth. She was aware of a sharp pain cutting into her chest, just above her heart.

"Of course they don't," she heard the Scarecrow from above her, "but they do anyway. Everyone seeks out pain and sacrifice, and then they feel justified, pure, deserving of the respect of their peers. Yes, we are human beings, we are born full of guilt; we feel terrified when happiness becomes a real possibility; and we die wanting to punish everyone else because we feel impotent, ill-used, and unhappy. To pay for one's sins while punishing the sinners, wouldn't that be delicious? Oh, yes, wonderful."

The pain went deeper, she smothered a cry. She couldn't hear what the Scarecrow was saying anymore. She was barely in control of maintaining her dignity, her self-control. Her mind felt like it was in a meat grinder – twisting and turning, and cutting. She was breathing harshly, and felt like throwing up again. The pain wouldn't allow her any thoughts, noble or profane; it was just pain, filling everything, frightening her and forcing her to think that she did have her limits and that she wasn't going to make it this time.

The only thing that existed in her universe was the deep, sharp pain that was forming a line down her chest.

Her skin began to burn with the cold and sharp edges of stones. It was becoming difficult to breathe – her teeth were chattering and her skin was numb.

But she took another breath. And another.

Then, when she was just about to give up, she was filled with a strange feeling. She had indeed reached her limit, and beyond it was an empty space, in which she seemed to float above herself, unaware of what she was feeling. Was this what the penitents had felt centuries ago? At the far extremity of pain, she had discovered a door into a different level of consciousness, and there was no room now for anything else but her own invincible self.

Everything around her had become a sort of dream: the dark walls, the hands around her wrists, the doctor with the repulsive mask. She didn't know if it was the cold or the pain, but she suddenly lost all sense of her own body and entered a state in which there was no desire and no fear, only a mysterious… peace.

She had crossed the frontiers of the body, and now there was only soul, 'light'… a kind of void, which she could only describe as Paradise.

The walls disappeared, the ceiling opened up to reveal a deep, blue sky; the ground became softer and felt damp. The damp of a clean morning. The smell of earth filled her nostrils and a soft wind refreshed her skin. She inhaled and exhaled deeply through her mouth, and each time she did a forest of trees grew softly around her….

* * *

**AN: **Another update in less than a week. Actually that was cassie's idea, which is fine. Happy Birthday to her!

Shalom y Amor


	30. Soul of my Soul

It was difficult to open her eyes much less move her limbs. She was completely drained mentally and physically; and completely covered in darkness. It wrapped itself around her but she could sense it was warm and comforting, instead of damp and cold. The first thing she could actually feel was a soft, radiant heat warming her skin. She could breathe, but it was ragged and forced. And as she drew one sharp breath after another, a deep sharp intake of damp air filled her nostrils.

Her body soon became warm from the heat surrounding her. Then she felt the ground beneath her body tremble just slightly, almost matching her breaths. She could feel something crawl slowly up her arms, legs, and sides. It was cold at first but gradually became a soft caress. Something from the earth was reaching out to her on all sides, it wasn't smothering her or swallowing her whole, but it felt as if a ray of golden warmth was actually wrapping itself around her body.

Her troubled breathing finally subsided and the smell of fresh and cool air overpowered her senses, she could hear the soft ringing of small bells beside her. So close to her and yet it seemed to be so far away.

A warm touch on her face lifted her out of the harsh darkness. Sunlight began to seep through her eyelids, almost forcing her out of her weary daze. She broke through her exhaustion and was warm and aware enough now to finally open her eyes.

It took time for her eyes to adjust to the soft light; but soon she found herself in a small clearing of soft grass and damp earth. Tall trees softly swaying with the morning air slightly managed to shade her from the sunlight. Small birds flew in between the lush branches, chittering away. But the sound of their songs seemed strange. It was louder and clearer than it had ever been before; nevertheless, the sound was a beautiful melody to her numb ears.

She took a few deep breaths before she slowly, painfully tried to raise her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and managed to bring her elbows up into a resting position, supporting her upper body with what strength she had in her arms. She was still exhausted, but her mind was now fully awake, something kept telling her to stay alert and not to lie back down. The slight dizziness passed slowly, and she groaned again as she held her head in her right hand before she looked down at herself.

Covering her body was a long, thick tunic of ivory white. She fingered the material. She had worn this before…

Sarah tilted her head upward in a flash, and her eyes were met with sheer cliffs and white waterfalls. Sitting up a little bit more, she was able to recognize everything around her; the trees, the grass, the valley before her, and the blue sky above her. She could hear the birds singing and the wind whistling softly. The sun rising over the cliffs had been the source of the warmth.

Her eyes watched an eagle soaring above her, golden in the morning air. Weaving and soaring, watchful and protecting.

She blinked once, twice, three times. She was here, in this valley… but not completely of her own world. It was different. Just like the last time…

Then she saw him dressed in white, like her. His lean, sensuous form was beautifully silhouetted in the golden sunshine. Much of his glamour was gone and was replaced by a more human, yet still beautiful face. Still regal, but without the ever-present stubborn arrogance evident in his eyes; eyes that were real, glowing, and boring into Sarah's as she looked into them. She suddenly had the irresistible urge to lift her fingers to the face and touch it.

He stepped lightly through the grass, and stopped a few feet before her. He half-smiled, waiting for her to speak.

A sharper line of heat scraped across Sarah's chest. But this time she welcomed it. "Am I dead?" she asked him. "Or dreaming? The crystals…"

"Are protecting you," Jareth said to her. "Like they did before."

Sarah looked down and tucked her knees to her side. "Where's my body, then?"

"Where you left it."

Her brow creased. "So we just left my body there… for them to do whatever they want with it."

"No," he shook his head, and his smile faded. "Dr. Crane will not harm your body in any way."

"He was!" Sarah insisted. "He was just cutting into me, into my chest!"

"He's experimenting with your mind, Sarah, he's making you see and feel things that aren't there. To see how much you can possible take." Jareth stepped closer to her. "The man's brilliant. A genius of psychology and the mind. But he's also a madman. His only intent is to see how much the mind can possibly take. He needs a healthy body to keep the brain alert."

"What did you do?"

His grin returned, but only slightly. "It often astounds me how deeply complex the human brain is. You humans are a strange lot, but you Sarah, already knew you were special. You hold abilities few mortals are able to tap into. When you surrendered your mind, you made the right decision to keep you alive. With your permission, I was able to open a door into the subconscious part of your mind that keeps you free of your earthly body. When the door was closed, the only other part of your mind that remained active was everything that registers anger, fear, or sorrow. I've made it so your body reacts to an image, but only as long as necessary. When you are free, you will remember nothing of what happened. It will only remember what happened here."

"I don't remember surrendering my mind to anything," she said. "I just remember… pain."

"Your subconscious, your higher self, brought you here. And I simply guided you."

Sarah looked up at his face that was slowly losing his smile again. This Jareth seemed different than the last time, he was more withdrawn.

She tilted her head. "There's something else."

"Ever the perceptive," Jareth said, impressed. "You are safe here with me. But we are between two worlds. The veil is very thin. A slight crack in the door I closed without the proper precautions could be…" he turned away from her then. "Well, it was a huge risk I took."

"What are the precautions? Is it something only you can do?"

"Yes. Even bringing you here was an incredible feat. It takes an enormous amount of strength, courage, and complete trust. We are quite alike, Sarah, you and I. My magic brought you here and you had the strength to see it through. It will take the same amount of effort from both of us to release you again."

Her stomach clenched into a knot. Release her? She didn't want to leave. It was like being in heaven with the love of your life that you lost tragically, unexpectedly…

He read the despair on her face like an open book. "You have to return eventually, Sarah. Your time has not yet come."

Another twist in her heart. She didn't know if she had the strength to leave this time. This was a tremendous part of the risk that Jareth did not speak of. Too much time spent in this fragile part of her mind would obliterate any chance of ever returning her to her body. The desire to stay would be too great.

The wind started to pick up, and it breathed a bit of life into the leaves of the forest. She felt the cool wind on her back and let it flow through her hair and on her neck. It was so soothing, to feel the cool breath of air on her face and in her long, dark hair. The wind caressed her and calmed her, just as the Earth had done moments before. She closed her eyes and listened carefully to each rustle of each leaf, in each blade of grass.

She could feel Jareth watching her closely. It was all she could do not to fall into his arms, and stay like that forever. Forever under this pure, bright plane of reality. But this was not a time for idleness or even a lover's respite. This place was as essential for her survival as it was dangerous.

She finally opened her eyes, and just as she thought, he was watching her through his own aching eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Will… will you come for me? For my body?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "I am working on that. The part of your mind stuck in your body will not recognize the people who hold you captive."

"And what will happen when someone I do recognize comes for me?" She paused, letting the answer they both knew hang in the air. "You've seen him, Jareth. You've seen how driven, how obsessive he is. I know his secret. It's the only reason he won't stop until he finds me."

Then something shifted dramatically within him. The pain he barely concealed in his eyes flowed out and seemed to carve lines around his eyes and lips. "It's not the only reason."

Sarah looked down again. She had betrayed him. She had made the choice to return to Bruce. But Jareth still wanted to protect her. His higher self, at least. Bringing her here was an act of unconditional love, and humility.

"Why can't you get there before he does? Why didn't you stop those men? Why….?"

Jareth held his hand out, begging her silently to stop. "No more questions now, Sarah."

Sarah huffed inwardly, but complied. Still a little shaky, she rose to her feet and took a moment or so to balance properly on her two delicate feet. She stared ahead and looked at the valley before her. It seemed like every other cliff was a sculpture of art in itself. A sloping ridge here, a peak there, and even a dome that had been cut in half. She stared transfixed at a cascading waterfall framed by towering pine trees.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, still staring at the white water. "I'm sorry for what I did. I took your kindness for granted."

Jareth didn't move. "You were in a state of confusion," he said, "it was only natural to find a bit of closure."

"I'm still sorry," she offered weakly.

"Do not be." He gave her a slow smile. "You are an exceptional woman. Yet you lack the capacity for rational thought."

"That doesn't make me very exceptional now, does it?"

"It is a trait that is not very easily learned. Your stubbornness inhibits you."

"Yours too."

"I will admit to that here. I would use my status as justification, though I shouldn't."

Sarah smiled in both response and in silent agreement. She reached for Jareth's hand and stroked his long fingers, sweeping under to press his palm against hers. There were no cold sparks of electricity or shockwaves that passed between them. Instead, the feel of their hands pressed together was beyond pleasant. It was exquisite.

A memory tugged at her and in it, she remembered standing at the top of one of the high cliffs, and Jareth had whispered, "_This place is older than time and holds more magic and secrets than you could possibly imagine."_

"We are where dreams go…" she murmured. She looked up at Jareth through lowered lashes.

He brought her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers, and kissed it. His mouth lingered on her palm.

His simple touch upon her had made her heart race with anticipation and had sent another ray of warmth spiraling throughout her body that she had never experienced before. This place was changing her again.

Jareth was still holding her hand and his long nimble fingers were now tracing the outer edges of her fingers. Yet his eyes still held that strange look. Pleasure and contentment mixed with a little of something else. Longing? Regret?

She felt a familiar warmth and sensation begin to stir within her. It was one that she had not felt in a long time. Butterflies fluttered about in her stomach and her mind was whirling. Exhaling loudly, she stepped forward, pulling herself closer to him.

Jareth still held her hand to him, but his reach to touch her hair was not as eager as it had been before. It felt controlled, like he was hesitant to run his bare fingers through her black hair. She still gasped openly at his touch, and he smiled in response, but something was still missing; or it was something that was present now that wasn't before.

They both turned and looked out over the enormous landscape that surrounded them. The beauty and peace of this place nearly wiped out every terrifying thought from before. The wind blew through the trees and into her hair, sending slight chills through her body. But it caressed her skin like silk, she had never felt a wind like that, and she took a strange comfort in it.

"Will I change again?" Sarah asked him.

"Why do you ask what you already know?" Jareth replied stoically.

Her heart beat quicker with fear. She already knew she would change. But for the better or the worse, she didn't know, and she wouldn't ask.

For now, they would sit and wait…

* * *

He had followed every lead, broken several faces in, listened to every call made, and terrorized more than a few of Gotham's underground. Until the answer finally stared him in the face.

Underground.

She had to be underneath the streets where the old subways and reservoirs stood abandoned. He had been looking from above when he should have been looking into the belly of the beast.

He had driven himself to the point of insanity searching for Sarah these past two days. He should have been following his instincts instead of chasing after shadows. He should have trusted his impulses and put her back under his watch like he had meant to. A snitch had told him that she wasn't with the Russians, but with someone far worse.

Scarecrow.

Just a small dose of Scarecrow's fear toxins almost killed him and left him unconsciousness for two days. After that, The Narrows had become Scarecrow's playground; he had poisoned the entire water system and had hundreds in a state of chaos for days. Batman was able to stop the toxins from reaching Gotham's center, but The Narrows had fallen to Arkham Asylum. There were dozens of inmates that were still on the loose, violent and beyond insane.

Sarah had never been given an antidote for the toxin. She could very well be dead, or gone as insane as the rest of Arkham's inmates. He had failed the other girls who had gone missing. For that, he would always blame and punish himself. But if Sarah were to go like the others, it would be like a knife that worked its way through his armor and pierce his soul. And it would stay there.

Batman would not lose this time.

He scanned the horizon of gargoyles and towers, searchlights and skylines; crouching, cape billowing, and staring down intently. He finally leapt from the building, opened his cape, and soared across the gulf between the two buildings. Batman glided sixty floors down, and across the river, before dropping at the edge of The Narrows. This place was overrun with Gotham's criminally insane; the Scarecrow had to be hiding in its depths, and somewhere Sarah was with him.

* * *

Black scalloped gauntlets were thrust onto purposeful hands. A dark cloak whipped around strong shoulders. A graphite cowl placed over an implacable face… a dark figure swallowed by the darkness. Bats fluttered as an engine roared to life...

The white waterfall that hid the cave tumbled hypnotically. A stream of liquid light that became brighter and brighter until a massive black tumbler exploded through the water and soared to the opposite bank…

The vision ended for Sarah. She had never seen a wide waterfall or a cave full of bats the whole time she knew Bruce. But she knew he had found her and was on his way. She looked over at Jareth. He had been standing and staring at the half dome that was bathed in the light of the sun.

They hadn't said a word to each other for several minutes. And the tension between them was growing by the second. Sarah could clearly see that Jareth was hiding something from her. He could barely keep it hidden behind that sheer veil of sadness.

Sarah walked beside him, her long, loose dress whispering as she moved. "What's wrong?" she said, her voice nearly cracking. "Jareth, why can't you find me?"

Jareth sighed. He ducked his head but didn't turn to her. "Sarah…"

"He's coming," she whispered, almost afraid. "You saw it too." She took his arm. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Jareth looked down before gazing into Sarah's face; his eyes reflected the sun's rays brilliantly. "I've made many mistakes since we were last here," he said to her. "I never should have come back. I should have let you go." His face was stern, yet held his familiar intensity. "But I cannot. You have my heart completely. And that is the real tragedy."

Sarah stumbled backward. She could feel a real, tangible ache in her chest as her breath rushed from her lungs. What had he just said? She had expected an explanation or a reason behind the delay, but not this. She stared speechless at him. Jareth's voice had been emotionless before, but now he spoke with everything he was feeling. His love for her shone so brightly, it brought tears to Sarah's eyes.

"Why won't you say what is truly in your heart?" Jareth could barely control his own voice. His words were low and filled with frustration.

It took her mind several moments to understand what Jareth, and her heart, had desperately been trying to tell her.

"I…I… can't," she stammered.

"Why?"

"Because I'll get hurt," she said with all honesty.

The words just spilled from her lips without thinking and she froze when Jareth stiffened. He seemed taken aback by her answer.

In response, his tone had become brutally and scathingly honest. "Love will hurt. Even at the best times. It leaves a burn and an ache within you that cannot be rid of. Physical pain lasts only a short while. The pain of love lasts a lifetime, sometimes more. But without it, we are mere beings with nothing of importance." Sarah blinked rapidly and stared into Jareth's eyes. His were glazed with an unknown emotion, something both thrilling and frightening. Sarah felt her heartbeat quicken when his hand brushed her hair from her face, smoothing over her skin. His eyes bored into hers. "I have done everything I possibly can for you," he said. "The only thing I have left to give is my love. Would you offer yours to me? Open up your heart to me, show me who you are, and I would be your slave! Tell me you love me, Sarah. Say it to me! Say it!"

Sarah opened her mouth to speak. But the wind suddenly picked up and it left her breathless…

* * *

Batman plummeted down, past the street's surface, past pipes and foundations until he landed hard on old, slick ground. His chemical tracker led him here, to the old 10th Street subway, just one of Gotham's many celebrated ghost stations. Years ago this cavernous space glistened with immense Gothic statuary, elaborate tile mosaics, tremendous decorative arches and spectacular cathedral ceilings. No more. Now the giant space, from floor to ceiling was a frozen maelstrom of twisting cast iron trusses, broken steam pipes, fragmented scaffolding and hanging cables.

He didn't trust the air down here, and his methane sensor confirmed it. He switched to air assist and a metal slide quickly covered his mouth and nostrils. He spotted shadows moving slowly down in the dark tunnels ahead. The Scarecrow's men.

A burly thug at the periphery of a tunnel was suddenly sucked into the darkness. Another man to the side disappeared with a scream.

The last man standing began to line up his shotgun, until a black gauntlet grasped the barrel and bent it upwards with a howl of tortured steel, and the man looked into the face of the Batman. He stumbled backward in terror, leaving the bent shotgun in Batman's hand.

Batman tossed the shotgun aside and grabbed the man's collar. "Where's Crane?" Batman hissed in the man's face.

The man gasped for air. "Down… the reservoirs…" He began to sweat profusely. "Please don't kill me!"

Batman knocked the man out cold. The methane in the air had already done a number on the thug's mental capacity. He probably thought he was looking at a demon.

He kept traversing the tunnels until he approached a wide platform of scaffolding at the top of a wide spiral staircase of scaffolding that hugged the walls of a tremendous ventilation shaft. His cape whipped up around him as if from some low infernal wind.

He noticed four more thugs race down the steps, knocking out bits of scaffolding as they went, sending entire chunks of already traversed staircase plummeting past them.

And down the fragmenting staircase, at the bottom off the shaft, a tremendous old fan spun, chewing chunks of falling scaffolding and plaster, and spitting plumes of dust.

The men stood at the bottom of the stairway, grabbing racks of scaffolding and wrenching the old aluminum supports away.

Batman couldn't reach for his holster in time and the platform where he stood gave way, and sent him towards the endless darkness and the splitting fan below. He fell fast, past stairways and laughing thugs whipping past. His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed a thug by the jacket, wrenching the fabric over his head, and jerking him hard into the railing like a human anchor. Batman climbed the struggling thug like a ladder, leaped onto the staircase, and cracked the thug's head on the rail before beating the other men into unconsciousness.

He didn't even take a breath. He climbed back up the platforms that hadn't come tearing down before scanning the area again. There, just below him on the other side, was a dark doorway. He dropped and landed quickly on a small ledge and flew off directly into the dark tunnel. He emerged into another space that was unlike any he had ever seen. Though he knew what this place was. It was another old railway with coffins everywhere. It was the old pneumatic system linking all of Gotham's cemeteries used to transport the dead.

Batman inspected the whole area quickly. He didn't let the thought of the dead enter his thoughts.

The old Eastern reservoir was located in the Weir chambers. Weir was in the northeastern corner of the Narrows and the 10th Street subway headed in that direction. He was definitely on the right path. But the amount of Scarecrow's men clearly had given that away.

More shadows moved along the walls. They could have been men or rats. Obsidian eyes tracked the movements in the dark tangle of coffins. It was a rather futile exercise as the movements of the object in question were few and far between. Now all he needed to do was follow the shadows.

* * *

"_Sarah…"_

The wind picked up again, it felt as if it were pushing her from behind followed by a deep voice calling her name among the trees. Sarah looked up at the clouds that flew past at a dizzying speed. Large, sporadic thrusts of wind blew at her back.

"He's found me," she cried. "He's trying to wake me!" Sarah turned back to Jareth, her eyes pleading and afraid. "I can hear him!"

Jareth reached out and cupped her face in his hands. "Sarah!" She blinked rapidly under his touch. "Sarah, look at me." She tried to focus on him with wide, terrified eyes. "Use your will as an anchor. Do _not_ let him in. You need your own strength to return."

Sarah shook her head, her dark hair moving about her shoulders. "It's too early. I'm not ready."

"Sarah, remember what I told you. If the door is opened without precaution, your mind, your sanity is at risk!"

At this last thought the wind began pushing even harder. Sarah felt her lower lip begin to tremble and she could not stop it.

"I can't!" she screamed over the wind and clenched her eyes shut. "I'm waking up!"

"You're not dreaming!" His fingers clutched at her hair. "Sarah, you have the strength to return without being forced back. Look at me!"

Sarah inhaled sharply as another wind picked up, stronger this time. Her mouth opened, gasping, and Jareth couldn't hold himself back any longer. His eyes shut closed and he pressed down and forward at the urging of his heart, crushing her lips against his own in a bruising kiss.

As his warm mouth fitted her own, Sarah understood why this was so dangerous. Her mind could crack. Pieces of what her human memory went suppressed could seep in. The toxins Crane had been injecting her with could have damaged her brain beyond repair, even without her knowing. And she was sure she would change again when she returned to her plane of reality. Would she be normal again? Or would her senses magnify to an almost unbearable limit? The rope that was pulling her back into reality felt like a noose around her neck. The despair that would besiege her after being so cruelly pulled away from this world, this heaven, would perhaps be catastrophic to her very being.

One of Jareth's arms circled her body and pulled her roughly toward him as the other hand cupped her neck.

Everything around them was lost in a dizzying whirlwind. She was slipping away, and the landscape was disappearing with her. Trees were pulled from their roots, the cliffs crumbled down in avalanches, the waterfalls ran dry. It was all twisting around them in a monstrous wind storm.

Feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric he wore, she instinctively pressed harder against his mouth. His lips parted beneath the pressure and he tilted his head to embrace her deeper, to taste her further. All they knew was the feel of their bodies against each other and the intense desire that invaded their minds. They clung to each other in a desperate attempt as the world fell down around them.

Until Sarah finally wrenched herself away from him painfully; and clenched her teeth together to keep from crying out at the sudden raw heat that flooded her entire body. She felt Jareth's bare hands on her face one last time before it all ended in a blinding white flash of light.

* * *

Batman approached Sarah's unconscious body and felt for a pulse. It was weak but it was there. He held a small vial under her nose and she began to rouse from her heavily sedated sleep almost immediately. Batman stood above her and stared at her for an inexpressibly long moment before moving away into the shadows.

Sarah's eyes struggled to open, but the fog that shrouded her mind wouldn't allow it. She held her head in her hands and took deep, hurried breaths waiting for the numbness to pass. Finally, she managed to open her eyes, and when she found herself back in the cellar underground, she immediately panicked. Her body had been put against the wall and she tried with the little strength she had to pull herself up. But her knees weak, she fell back against the wall again and limply dropped onto the ground. The breath knocked out of her, she sat still gasping for air.

Fighting to focus her eyes, Sarah suddenly brought her fists to her chest and clasped her diamond to her. Still here, still intact. No one had taken this from her. But this one time, it had brought no comfort. There was a deep, empty hole in her chest that felt like a boulder smothering her at the same time. A sob escaped her, and then another. She felt tears beginning to streak her dirty face. She pressed her hands on the wall behind her and attempted to lift herself up again. But she stumbled back, still panicked and woozy.

At the sound of her sobs, a thug peeked in through the cellar doorway. He looked up and down at the door because it had been cracked open. "What is this?" he murmured, leering at Sarah. "You're a strange, little girl, you know that?" He crept closer to her. "A strange, dirty little girl."

Crane was nowhere in sight. This man was free to do what he wanted with Sarah. But she wasn't afraid, not anymore. She was angry.

The man towered over her, breathing heavily, anticipating the coming act. Sarah only looked up at him defiantly.

Then a shadow appeared on the far side of the wall. The man flinched back, realizing something else was in the cellar with them. Almost immediately, the shadow reached forward and knocked the man out cold.

Sarah jumped up, but as she turned to run, she collided with a wall of black; the masked phantom who had crept up to her was far more solid than he had appeared from across the room. A terrible silence ensued, broken only by drops of water and Sarah's own rushed breathing.

Sarah gingerly tried to balance on her two feet. But within an instant, she collapsed on the floor in a paroxysm of pain. She couldn't put any weight on her right ankle, it felt twisted. She made a second attempt at standing upright but Batman quickly scooped her up. He sprinted down the hall with Sarah in tow. He stopped at a door and kicked it hard until it gave, then smashed it open.

Across the tunnel, something made a crashing sound. Batman stopped and stared down the dark tunnels, his eyes near glowing in the dark. He put Sarah down carefully and gestured for her to stay put, then disappeared.

Crane's men had fanned out, trying to cover the tunnels with their flashlights. Suddenly, one of the flashlights went dark. Then another. Someone screamed.

Sarah tried to breathe evenly when she heard men screaming in fear. She waited, shaking from the cold and damp of this cursed place. Then she heard a laugh. One that she was familiar with. Down at the other end of the tunnel, the Scarecrow emerged from the dark toting a gun that was smoking from the muzzle.

Sarah watched as he threw back his burlap-covered head and laughed, stumbling backward as he did so. He taunted and jeered and called out to the Bat-Man. The Scarecrow began to reveal a surprisingly passionate anticipation about his nemesis and a haughty recklessness that was almost thrilling to watch. The excited eagerness that slipped into his crooked voice sent chills everywhere.

Scarecrow fired his gun. Sarah crouched back and covered her head. Then fired again. She ducked her head into her knees. The muzzle flash from his gun strobed the room.

Scarecrow didn't even see Sarah crouching in the far corner; he was so focused on the coming fray with Batman. He quickly reloaded his gun before the door behind him was kicked open. Scarecrow fired, but no one was there. Scarecrow stared and waited, his finger was restless on the trigger. From his right came a noise. He turned and fired. In the muzzle flash, Batman finally bore down on him like a demon.

The Scarecrow fired, and fired again as Batman tackled him. From down the tunnels, at least six more men descended into the room behind Batman, their weapons raised.

Sarah scrambled away to a safe distance. She watched with dazed eyes as a thug fired at the dark figure hurling towards him. Batman landed on the thug's chest, smashing him to the floor. Batman beat down the knives and clubs striking up at him. Bringing his fist down hard on the head of one man, he disarmed another and slashed the arm of a third. Batman flipped a shotgun around in the man's hands and used it as a hinge to snap his forearm, and smashed him in the jaw with the stock without breaking step. He finally field stripped the shotgun and threw the pieces in different directions.

One man ran past the fight and grabbed Sarah by the arm, hauling her up. She screamed and on instinct, punched him in the temple. That one hit knocked the burly man to the ground. Sarah stumbled back and stared down in horror at what she had just done.

The Scarecrow had heard her scream. He turned and began to search for Sarah. Batman caught him with a blow, spun him down and disarmed him. The rest of Scarecrow's men tried to jump him, but he took them out one at a time, disarming them and breaking several forearms. But this had given the distraction the Scarecrow needed. He ran up behind Sarah, who was still gaping down at the man she had beaten down, and caught her up in an iron grip.

The Scarecrow whipped them both around to face Batman. He had a knife pressed to Sarah's neck. Batman froze.

Out of instinct, Sarah braced her hands on the forearms holding her down. She kept them there for several seconds before the Scarecrow tensed then began to twitch. His sleeve was singeing and Sarah began to smell a musky burn coming from it, coming from her hands that gripped his arm. The Scarecrow began to hiss through his teeth and the hiss began to turn into a whimper then into a bloodcurdling scream as Sarah's hands burned through his sleeve and onto his skin. But he didn't let her go. He only clutched her tighter, unwilling to release her. So Sarah held on and twisted her neck away from the knife pressed there. The Scarecrow twisted and convulsed his torso, pushing his limits, turning in half circles and whipping both of them around until her hair covered her face.

A small prick of the blade had drawn blood and Sarah cried out in shock. Finally, Batman lunged forward and twisted Scarecrow's grayed and burning arm back, pulled Sarah out of his grasp and sprinted back down the tunnel, lifting Sarah to him.

The Scarecrow stumbled back and rasped for air, his mouth hanging open. The pain on his arm was excruciating, the first and part of the second layer of his skin had been burned through, reddened and splotchy, already swelling with blisters. And it was because Sarah had touched him there.

The Scarecrow stared down at it, fascinated, until he started to laugh again.

* * *

Batman looked up before dropping Sarah down to the floor, quickly but with gentle arms. Sarah took a moment to look down at her hands. She turned them over, flexing her fingers; they were shaking but unharmed.

They had arrived back at the old coffin railway. There was only one way back and that was up, but the platforms that hadn't come crashing down were old and unstable. Even if they weren't so dangerous, it would have taken Sarah too long to climb up.

A sound echoed behind them, someone was coming quickly.

Batman pulled out his grapnel, lifted Sarah back up and to him, and shot upward into the mass of piping that connected the reservoirs. The grapnel hook caught and they were suddenly hoisted up at a sickening speed. But there was no opening to escape into. Batman seemed to anticipate this, and he kicked his leg out and pushed hard into a large chute that was connected to the rest of the reservoir's pipelines. In an instant, the rusted, decaying channels of water transport cracked and crumbled, until they began to crash downward. The sound of it was unbearable; it rang in Sarah's ears like a thousand cathedral bells.

They twisted in the air, still rising up, Batman holding onto Sarah with one arm and the other clutching the other end of his grapnel. The collapse of the old water lines caused the surface of Arkham Asylum's shoddy docks to give way. Cringing, Sarah looked up to see the surface coming closer and closer, and they seemed to be picking up speed.

"Hold on!" Batman bellowed.

She did as she was told before they skimmed through a cracked opening that was giving way. But they didn't stop at the surface. They kept rising up, higher and higher, the fresh air filling their lungs until she could see the tops of several buildings. In one deft move, Batman put the grapnel back in its holster and opened his hand, revealing a pneumatic mangle hidden in his palm. He reached behind his neck and pulled up. A dark wing exploded out from behind them, and they glided out across the abyss of the most notorious asylum in the country.

They were quickly yanked up above Arkham, and soared toward the river that separated The Narrows and Gotham. Sarah clung to Batman who hung from the wire attached to a parachute pulling them into the updraft of air. They trailed the parachute, his cloak a wing of shadowy quicksilver disappearing into the night.

But they were not quick enough. Shots began to explode in the air and rushed past them. One shot nearly severed the wire and ripped through one of Batman's wings. They suddenly lost control of the parachute; Batman grunted, clinging to both Sarah and the fraying wire. Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as the docks rushed past. Then the river was suddenly below them, coming too quickly.

The wire finally snapped apart and sent them both spinning faster and further downward. Batman's broken wing collapsed and in a brutal whiplash, bit Sarah in the side. She immediately spasmed and lost her grip on Batman. She was torn from him and both were sent were sent flying over the river in different directions. Sarah reached out blindly, but Batman was too far gone.

She plummeted down towards the water, her eyes wide open…

* * *

Shalom y Amor


	31. Antidote

Sarah hit the surface of the water hard and the impact burned her body as much as the freezing water did. She opened her eyes but couldn't see; the water was dark and the cold bit into her. Flailing her arms and legs, she swam up to the surface quickly to fend off the numbness starting to spread, and the burn that was growing in her lungs from lack of oxygen.

Her hands were the first to break the surface and then her head quickly shot through. Sarah opened her mouth and inhaled the air deeply before fighting to catch her breath. She slicked her hair back as she gagged on water that had caught in her throat. She looked ahead of her and back, turning in circles. She was alone. There was no sign of Batman. Her limbs were now fighting to stay afloat as she searched the surface. Her twisted ankle had become a dull pain that was beginning to weigh her down.

The river waves rolled insistently to and fro, rocking her back and forth and splashing in her face so much that her eyes began to sting and her lips began to swell with cold.

"_Swim…"_ she thought, _"he would want you to swim…"_

Slowly, she began to move her limbs and pull herself toward the shore. There was no current to fight against since they had landed so close to the docks. But she was quickly running out of strength, burned out from adrenaline. Her one good foot kicked hard against the water as a wave of water hit her in the mouth and nose, making her choke and cough, but she did not stop.

After several excruciatingly long minutes, she felt hard, rough rock beneath her fingertips. She grabbed blindly, her eyes watering and nose streaming. Water had begun to seep into her lungs, and she struggled for a full breath. She coughed violently to emit the water trapped in her throat and lungs before taking great gasps of much needed air.

Sarah literally crawled out of the water and onto the rocky shoreline, fighting for oxygen and shivering against the air. Her eyes were glazed for a moment as the world spun around her. Her wet hair stuck to her face and hung in dripping strands around her eyes. She waited for her vision to settle as she took great gulps of air. She heard the rumble of ferries and machinery not far from her; the cold water still lapped at her wet jeans that stuck to her calves.

Her breath was too shallow and too forced, it overpowered her hearing, and she didn't sense anyone coming to meet her at the shore until it was too late.

Sarah shot upward, but Yuri's leap was savage, and he quickly caught her by the throat. They glared at each other; she with an angry defiance, and him with a triumphant, sinister gleam. She clasped her hands to his, hoping that she would burn Yuri in the same way she had done to the Scarecrow. But nothing happened. She held tighter and bared her teeth at him.

"Like all the others," Yuri said quietly, distantly in his thick accent, "I will stretch out your torture, savor and carefully ration your pain. I will tear you apart from the inside, rip your muscles to pieces, flay you alive, strangle you with your own hair."

Sarah shivered violently, but the defiance never left her. Yuri obviously didn't like that. He hauled her up and dragged her over the rocks by the back of her neck. This time, she wasn't given the luxury of avoiding her twisted ankle; she stumbled and tripped over the rocks until they reached the edge of the loading docks.

The crates and warehouses were empty. Yuri must have come alone, or gone ahead of his men; either way, it was evident he had shot them down by the smoking muzzle of his gun.

Yuri pushed her violently, and with lightning quick speed, smashed his fist into her face. He hit her with such force that Sarah cried out in pain and fell to the ground like a broken puppet. She felt like she had stuck her head into an open red hot furnace. Through tightly closed eyes, she felt her head beginning to throb.

"Not much of a fighter, are you?" he remarked, giving her a sadistic pause to gather her bearings and catch her breath, and himself a chance to enjoy her pain at his leisure.

Sarah cried out again when she was seized by the hair and dragged back up to her feet, only to be shoved against a crate and pinned there, Yuri's hand clamped on her throat. From his back pocket, he drew a slim knife for fighting. The blade looked like it had pierced too much flesh. She struggled, but his grip was firm and his knife was far too close to her stomach. Yuri drank in the wild look in her eyes. She had stopped screaming, but she clawed at his forearm, trying to free herself, vaguely aware that the blade was coming closer and closer.

She watched helplessly as Yuri lifted his knife, the silver blade glinting in the dim light. He stopped and looked at her with a taunting smile. He held the blade up to her face. Sarah looked and saw her own eyes reflected back at her; they were blazing a brilliant color of gold and emerald. And they were filled with that raging defiance. She then glanced upwards at him towering over her like an ominous crumbling minaret, smiling faintly to himself. She held his gaze and curled her lips in a final grimace of bold disgust.

Sarah looked at him straight in the eye and spat out, "Go ahead and **_try_** to kill me, you bastard!"

Yuri's hand tightened around her neck in response. He felt her swallow hard, and smiled coldly. He tightened his grip just slightly while watching her face intently. He could feel her quick, shallow breathing in his hand and he tightened his fingers even more. He squeezed harder and watched her fight for air. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her face was turning a sick, bluish hue. He didn't want to kill her just yet, he had waited so long, and he wanted to prolong the kill as much as possible.

But then he stopped, and slackened his grip just slightly.

Sarah's eyes shot open and she watched as he pulled his arm back, hand in a fist, to strike her again. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing the pain was imminent. But the anticipated blow never came and she cautiously opened her eyes again to see Yuri looking behind him at something blinking on the wall next to her.

Yuri finally released his grip, and Sarah clutched at her throat, gasping for air. She looked up and saw what Yuri saw – a metal object in the shape of a bat blinking rapidly, until it exploded in Yuri's face.

In an instant, Yuri screamed and covered his face as if acid had just been poured on him. In the next instant a black figure dropped down and Sarah was yanked from the pavement. She was pulled up between buildings, up and up, until finally landing on her feet again.

A pair of arms released her as she blinked rapidly, trying to get her bearings straight. She looked up and was face-to-face with the same glinting and fathomless black eyes.

Batman regarded her silently, almost coldly; then turned away towards the edge of the roof, his armored hands reaching for something around his waist. Sarah caught a glimpse of a bronzed utility belt but her gaze silently drifted out over the Narrows. It was an island in the Gotham River twisting outward; a ramshackle labyrinth of crumbling public housing and makeshift additions growing like fungus around an insane asylum. A walled yet uncontrolled city.

She looked behind her and saw Batman pulling out a black strap and fastening it together. She swallowed before asking, "What did you do?"

"Gave him a present," he replied in a dark, harsh voice.

Sarah turned suddenly at the sound of cars, many of them, coming into the Narrows. It sounded as if an entire squadron was heading in their direction. She turned back, her eyebrows furrowed in question.

"The Russians," Batman said, "Yuri's men were here first, now the rest are coming for you... and me. They just don't know when to give up."

Sarah took a closer look at the black strap and saw that he was attaching it back to his own armor. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I need you to do something for me." He finally looked back up at her. He stared at her with his steel eyes, wolf eyes. They were alternately shallow and hard but never something in-between. "Trust me."

Sarah stared back, riveted to the spot. His appearance was near brutal, his voice abrasive, but the way he had said 'trust me' was sincere, almost dire. For a moment, Sarah saw Batman not as the creature he was, but a man underneath his own exterior demons. The sirens came closer and closer until Sarah saw the faint flicker of red and blue far down below her. She turned her head back down again and didn't hear Batman come to her side.

He took her silence as compliance. But at this point, she didn't have a choice. She would have to come with him this way whether she liked it or not. He didn't wait for her to argue or even say another word. He wrapped two massive arms around her waist and fastened her in tightly.

Sarah started and looked down at the strap he had attached to himself and was now fastening around her waist, strapping her into his body.

"Wha… wait!" she cried. "What are you doing? It broke, the parachute broke!"

Batman paid her no mind and stepped up on the ledge. Sarah had no choice; she was now strapped tight against his heavily armored body. Her chest was crushed against his and her face was uncomfortably close to his neck.

He lowered his voice and spoke next to her ear. "We're gliding on my one good wing. Stay as still as you can and hold on to me."

A small sound escaped from the back of her throat as she cautiously wrapped her arms around him. She remembered being in another pair of arms like this once before. But he wore no mask, no black body armor, and they were not about to escape from the mob…

They both stood at the edge. Batman watched a moving train not far below them, calculating the right time… Sarah turned her head and looked down at the impossible drop below. She turned back, closed her eyes and did as she was told – put her whole trust in Batman…

They fell through the air, his cloak flapping, he slid his gloves into the activating pockets and the cloak suddenly went rigid, smashing the wind like a parachute. Batman's arms controlled his cloak, not simply arresting their fall, but gliding gracefully like a hang glider. Cars and SUVs were surrounding the buildings. Men had their guns drawn, waiting as they moved through the sky, slipping past towering buildings, moving deftly around each corner. Sarah stared down, wide-eyed, now unable to shut her eyes.

Batman dove, accelerating, streaking down, and cutting through the steam geysers shooting up in the train's wake. They stayed hidden among the steam as the train sped through a station. He suddenly banked sharply around the building and flew above the streets.

Sarah's eyes widened at a shadowy monster moving under them. It was a massive, black tumbler moving parallel to their flight.

Batman turned another corner and pulled on a string from under his arm. He opened his cloak further with a jolt and quickly straightened his body, his arms still out as they both landed hard, but inside the tumbler. He undid her strap, told her to sit and strap herself in. She did as she was told and looked to her right as a squad of cars came speeding towards them.

Blinding headlights flared and a massive engine roared. Sarah shrunk back as the top of the tumbler covered the both of them.

"They saw me!" she cried out breathlessly.

"I know."

A black car pulled across the alley as Batman slammed on the accelerator. A man dove out of the way as the tumbler came flying out of the darkness; the matte-black, muscularity of the stealth-finished 'car' blew by. Sarah's jaw dropped as she hung onto her safety strap, terrified.

The tumbler sped towards the car, and smashed into it without mercy. Its huge front tires crushing the hood, nearly bouncing the tumbler right over the car in a messy display of brute force. It tore left, and accelerated down the street; weaving around traffic, and dodging freeway supports.

Sarah braced against the dash, breathing fast, and staring at the road ahead. Through her eyes it was speed; pure, primitive sensation – lights streaking, columns of shadows flashing past at an unthinkable velocity.

Something was happening to her…

Batman looked at an intricate GPS display, then at the road ahead. The tumbler raced along, jumping lightly at speed bumps and corners, nimbly dodging through the cross-traffic. Sarah saw two more black cars join the pursuit from the cross streets. Batman also spotted the cars on a rear-view monitor and flipped a switch. The tumbler dropped spike strips onto the road. The cars hit them, their tires exploding, rim light sparks as they grind, skidding sideways, one laying into the other.

The tumbler slid outside of the freeway supports, rolled over the sidewalk, and barely nipped back into the roadway. They came out from under the elevated freeway and were hit by a spotlight from a chopper above them. The Gotham PD had now joined the chase.

Batman glanced at a row of buttons - each one a tiny screen showing different views. He pushed one and the view flicked onto the main display.

Sarah was near hyperventilating. Her heart was beating too fast and her breathing was too shallow. He was driving too recklessly for her to take. And the shadows above them began to take shape as they got closer and closer to the Gotham River…

Three cop cars pulled across the intersection into a makeshift roadblock, their lights blazing, sirens blaring. Batman spotted them in time and touched the GPS screen again. It became three-dimensional, showing the heights of buildings and the levels of streets. He skid into a turn and raced up through another street, the car's enormous width taking out crumbled pillars at every turn.

Sarah flinched away from the pillars as he smashed into them one by one. Behind them, cop cars smashed into down pillars in the tumbler's wake.

They suddenly stopped with a jerk. Batman looked over at Sarah. She recoiled back, terrified, clawing at her harness. Batman put his gloved hand on her frantic arms.

"Trust me," he said.

The chopper hovered over them and Sarah started again when someone on a loudspeaker called out, "Turn off your engine!"

Batman ignored the warning and slid into the front driving position, body prone as if riding a motorcycle, head in a glass pod between the front wheels. He hit a button and cannons suddenly emerged from the nose of the tumbler blasting the far wall on the other side of the River. A massive jet engine at the back ignited, its mouth adjusting, flapping on the front and rear of the car, it flared out like a python spreading its neck.

Sarah reeled back and stared ahead as the tumbler rocketed forward heading for the gap, accelerating as it got closer...

Sarah screamed before Batman hit another button. Another explosion prompted the launch off the ground. The tumbler soared over the thirty-foot river to land heavily on the other side of the street.

Batman yanked the steering left and hit the boost. It sped over the slick city streets but the chopper was still in pursuit, and soon, more cop cars would join the chase. Sarah looked up as the chopper swooped low over the buildings.

Batman's forward-slung position was the only vertical element in the angled car as they were chased by the low-flying chopper. The tumbler swerved up over a low bridge, the divider crumbling in its wake, and they raced for the end of the bridge which paralleled a freeway underneath them. The tumbler rocketed forward, jumped through the last divider, and dropped onto the freeway.

Sarah shrunk back at the traffic swerving to avoid them. A skidding, squealing, out of control sedan, braked to avoid collision. And miraculously, Batman's vehicle shot out of its path. Police cars saw the tumbler disappear onto the freeway below and immediately followed the chase through the side streets.

Batman's display showed a radar sweep and a plotted a course through the differing speeds of the lanes. He was piloting, leaning left and right like a motorcyclist. The tumbler swerved but the chopper's light stayed perfectly trained. Sarah noticed the traffic get heavier and the police closing in from behind. She involuntary flinched and squirmed back every time they got too close to another car.

Batman finally lifted himself back into the rear driving position and throttled back. The tumbler sped across the lanes, a wraith among the lines of cars. Sarah's eyes were staring straight ahead, unable to move, her breathing still very shallow.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully," Batman said in his deepest voice. "As soon as I stop this car, you get out and run into Wayne Tower as fast as you can. I can divert them but you'll only have a minute. Do you understand?"

His voice was so menacing and forceful that Sarah nodded her head furiously; afraid of what would happen if she protested. The scene around them was quickly turning catastrophic. She would have to ignore her ankle for now. She looked up through the buildings and the art deco tower of Wayne Tower reared against the night sky.

The spotlight from the chopper hit the car as Batman hit another button and the main engine roared as if back to life again. Batman shot forward between two cop cars and slammed into each of their sides. The cop cars spun out of control, slamming into the guard rail and the divider as the tumbler raced ahead, weaving through traffic. They slid onto a tightly-curved exit ramp and immediately flew off of it, jumping down onto the front road below.

Sarah's eyes began to flicker at the eerie green view of buildings slowly turning into dead, ghostly trees. Her breathing was faster but in short gasps.

Batman yanked a lever, whipping the tumbler right in a hard turn, down a small, dark turnoff. The chopper finally lost them and the pursuing cop cars blazed past the turnoff.

Sarah looked up at the monstrous shapes of the buildings. They were flickering, jagged tree shapes that spun past her dizzyingly. Then she began to actually see creatures with black bodies and massive wings following them. They screamed at her and flashed their razor sharp teeth; smiling and gnashing at the same time.

She cringed, her mouth open in a silent scream. "I can see them!"

"Hold on," he said, as if understanding what she was seeing. "Just hold on."

Sarah screamed and ducked her head when she suddenly heard gunshot blasts. Bullets were striking the tumbler but nothing was getting through. Another line of cop cars had found them and were getting closer…

Another round of bullets hit Batman's side, but he didn't even flinch. The Russians and the police were now shooting at each other.

The too-wide tumbler ripped through metal sheets and drywall from both sides of the tiny alley. People on the streets ran screaming as the tumbler headed straight for Wayne Tower. She looked straight ahead at the towering building before them awash with golden light from every story. A large, silver 'W' was at the top and two stone men dressed in robes held a ticking clock between them just below that.

Red and blue police lights were approaching fast as they got ever closer to the towering building. They barreled through the street, the engine roaring as they picked up speed. Sarah grit her teeth and shrunk back when she heard more gunshots behind them.

"Get ready," said Batman.

He turned the vehicle slightly so that Sarah could reach the entrance from her side and the tumbler would also be able to block any stray bullets that may find her. She undid her harness with trembling fingers, her chest constricted with panic. The canopy of the tumbler hissed open in three sections, like insect wings imploding.

Batman eyed the entrance intently, and waited for the right moment…

"Now!" he roared.

The vehicle stopped to a halt and Sarah bolted out of the cockpit as the Batman flew upward, his cloak a shield for her to escape.

The scene was a war zone. Police cars with their sirens and loudspeakers were racing towards her; the chopper's light was blinding white as she rushed to the front entrance of Wayne Tower. Black cars and SUVs were pulling up and shooting at the police. She didn't dare look behind her or above, only trusted the Batman's word that she would be able to get inside. She screamed and covered her head when a bullet flew past her and bit a parked car. But she didn't stop. Her insides were on fire as she struggled with her injured ankle. But the police and the Russians were the least of her worries when she glanced to the side and saw the black creatures swarming towards her.

At that moment, the glass of the front door of Wayne Tower shattered, and without a moment's hesitation, she leapt inside. No sooner than she did, Batman flew in after her like a cloud of black smoke. A security guard standing watch inside, pulled out his gun and pointed it straight at them. Batman reached around and faster than the guard could see threw a capsule, and when it hit the ground, tear gas exploded in front of the guard.

Batman grabbed Sarah's waist and pulled her towards him. "This way."

She was lifted to him again, and they crept through the Wayne Tower lobby, now dark and lifeless. They made their way swiftly through the main hallway of elevators until they reached the very end. Batman plowed through the last door with his immense shoulder, nearly breaking it down. As he reached into his belt again, Sarah looked up at the stairwell that held more than forty stories. Even the dim lights on each floor didn't let her see the top.

"Hold on," he said as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist and the other shot up in the air. He fired the grapnel straight above their heads and the thin cable shot out. Sarah lost her breath and grabbed onto him when they were suddenly launched upward. They passed numerous flights of stairs at a dizzying speed. They flew past more stories than she could count; up through the spiral staircase like the silent shadows that had been chasing them through the streets.

They finally stopped near the very top and Batman swung himself and Sarah unto the landing effortlessly in a silent flurry of black. He took Sarah's arm and pulled her into an adjoining room.

Sarah stumbled behind him and watched subdued, as Batman whipped back and bolted the door behind them. She turned and looked out over the large, empty room that was clearly only used for storage; but it still held a magnificent view of Gotham City. She swallowed, but wasn't able to catch her breath just yet. Too much had happened. She was just coming back into herself, finding her strength again… and then all of this. She stared at Batman in the intimate quiet as he glided through the room, looking out over the city, calculating their next move; his eyes the only light coming from his body.

He pulled out a small device that looked like a recorder. "Gordon, tell your men the Russians are in Wayne Tower!"

A male voice was on the other end. "Where's the girl?"

"With me."

"I'm sending four squadrons up."

"Hurry."

Sarah shivered; she was still damp from falling in the river. "What now?" she asked, cringing at her own hoarse voice.

"We move…" he looked up at the skyline through the window, "to that building."

Sarah followed his glance, and walked up to the window. The Gothic cathedral of St. Michael's loomed before her.

"Churches are quiet," she noted.

Batman looked over at her. His expression was emotionless as ever before he turned away again.

Her eyes flickered back to him warily. "You came for me."

"You think you could have taken the Scarecrow by yourself?" he asked condescendingly.

Sarah stared at him, at his dark form. Then she shook her head, remembering… She turned again to the silhouette of the cathedral against the sky, looming over the other buildings; the old sentinel that it was. Then she felt it again. That hollow ache in her chest.

Sarah didn't see Batman reach a gloved hand up to her temple until he was touching her. She flinched away from him violently.

Batman drew back, a damp piece of fabric in his hand. "It's only anti-septic."

She had forgotten about the welt on her face that Yuri had given her earlier. She lowered her head again, silently allowing him to continue. She glanced down and glared at the bronzed utility belt wrapped around his hips. She saw his gloved hands put the anti-septic back, and reach into another compartment. He pulled out a small needle with an amber-like liquid in the syringe.

Sarah didn't flinch backward. "Is that...?"

"The antidote," Batman confirmed. "You've never had it. But everyone else in Gotham has."

She sighed and rolled up her sleeve. She turned the inside of her elbow to him. Batman cupped her elbow and pressed the needle into her skin.

Staring down at her arm, and without thinking, she opened her mouth and whispered, "I was going to come back…"

Batman stopped what he was doing and stared her down. But she didn't meet his eyes, she was afraid of what she might see so clearly now…

A muffled beat came from outside the door and down the hallway. They both turned to the sound that was steady, and getting louder, and closer. A door slammed down the hallway, and another and another. Voices with thick accents followed.

Sarah jumped and instinctively backed away. She had never received the antidote, just a pinprick of blood. Batman turned to her and in one look they both had the same thought – they had wasted too much time here. A chopper was one thing, but facing a bloodthirsty mob with guns was another thing entirely.

"Go," he pushed her towards another door to the back of the long room. "That way!"

She hesitated for a moment, afraid to go alone without him. But he lowered his head, his whole body beginning to tense.

"Go, Sarah."

His voice echoed as if spoken from all shadows at once. It was clearly a demand from him, and this time she whipped around and ran for the back door just as a terrible crash sounded where Batman had been left standing.

Batman tensed and prepared himself for the inevitable. He focused all of his rage, all of his strength and power into keeping the Russians as far away from Sarah as possible.

* * *

She ran down the hallway, her black hair streaking behind her. But it was happening again. Just like in her dreams. Distorted shadows and shreds of pale light clouded her vision. She kept close to the wall for balance as she rushed down the dark hallway. Panic began to set in again as the walls stretched upward eerily before her eyes. They crumbled away at her touch and in its place became polished wood. A wide expanse of a dark hallway was lit dimly only by high candelabras. She immediately recognized the luxurious theater of Gotham City. But it seemed to be standing in a different time, in a different place. She felt isolated and uneasy to be here; in this palace. She was surrounded by dripping candles and dark hallways separated by marble columns and velvet curtains. She felt like she was walking into a trap; a trap that had seduction as the bait.

She rounded a corner leading into the small rotunda. She walked inside, looked down and stared at the dazzling mosaic of the sun and the crescent moon. She shut her eyes as flashes of a dream she had long ago bombarded her. A white dress, the mirror, a black mist, and the overwhelming realization that she had always loved Jareth…

She opened her eyes again and saw him standing before her in clothes of royal, deep amethyst. Her heart leapt for a moment. She was struck by the faint halo of his hair, the glitter of his jewels in the candlelight. But then she began to back away slowly at the raw malevolence he exuded. The look on his face was intentional, and when he smiled, she was harshly reminded of a feral animal. In this state, in this way he was easy to fall prey to. And with one word, she could have given away her soul to him just for his pleasure. He felt tainted, spoiled. This was the dark side of Jareth.

The Goblin King smiled slowly, and gave her a devious glance. Sarah blinked and shook her head, trying to keep the dazzling glimmer from blinding her eyes. She didn't see him step forward and take her up in his arms. She gasped aloud and felt a sickening weight roll in her stomach.

Sarah couldn't move her arms, they were trapped against her sides under his strong ones. And when he raised his hand to her face, it still felt like an invisible arm was holding her down. He began to trace her lower lip with the tip of his leather glove.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

Sarah winced and turned her head away from his touch and his voice. They both sent shivers of raw electricity down her body, in the most intense and ravaging way she had ever known.

The Goblin King cupped her jaw and brought her face back in front of his, closer this time.

His eyes – the pupils mismatched – seemed brighter, and glittered with both magic and madness. "I love you," he whispered, and he lowered his face to hers, intending to kiss her fully. His eyes never left hers.

If he were to kiss her, Sarah knew she would truly be lost. Her surroundings may not have been real, but they would become real to her. She wouldn't know the difference between reality, her reality, and the realm of an evil Goblin King. Everything would begin to blur together now that her mind was without the antidote, and incredibly vulnerable.

Sarah flinched back. "You… you don't remember…"

The Goblin King froze and narrowed his eyes.

From the corners of her eyes, Sarah could see the candles melting away at a furious pace. She could feel ice burning through her arms, and a strange buzz that entered her ears and rang in her brain. Panic began to rise up in her chest and into her throat.

"I don't know what you are…" she cried, "I don't know what you want with me." She managed to break free, but his face was still close enough so that she could see it twisting into a scowl. It was then that she started shaking, her eyes squinted up to hold back tears, and her mouth was forced to hold back a sob. "Who are you?" she cried out again. "What do you want? What do you want?" She was screaming now, her voice at an unbearable pitch, tears were beginning to flow down her cheek.

The room suddenly shifted. It was still dark, but she was back in another room in Wayne Tower. Jareth still stood before her, now dressed in dark and muted grays. His face was flickering from dark to light, from a wicked grin to a weary frown. His head finally gave a sharp twist with what sounded like a muted snarl, and he looked back at Sarah with black eyes.

Sarah clamped her eyes shut again and stumbled backward, hitting her hip on the side of a table. She staggered again and opened her eyes. Jareth was gone.

He was gone and had left her without a warning.

Her head jerked to the side as rough hands grabbed her and rushed for her from behind. She screamed and pulled back, but they had her by the wrists and arms, she wasn't able to wrench herself away.

"Now what?" A rough, deep voice said.

"The boss just wants her dead." Another replied. "Toss her."

She couldn't see any faces. They all blended into thick, dirty masks of filth and madness.

"No!" Sarah screamed. "No!"

A man raised his shotgun to the side and blew out the pane of glass next to him. They dragged Sarah over and dangled her out the window. They didn't say anything more. She felt the hands leave her arms but then violently shove her in the back. Her feet left the ground and her body crashed through the rest of the glass window before she felt herself free-falling through the air...

* * *

**AN: **If you read the previous version of this story, you kinda know what's gonna happen...

**Shalom y Amor**


	32. The Cover of Night

The Cover of Night

The problem with some Russians is that they don't stay down. You can pound and thrash them as hard as you can, but they'll still keep coming at you. One of those Russians was Yuri.

Their hands and arms wove an intricate, exotic, rapid pattern of movement. Both Yuri and Batman blocked every move for each other. It was the world's best assassin against the dark knight of Gotham.

At least three men were able to get past the fight and scattered throughout the hallways, looking for Sarah. Yuri was trying to do the same, using a few sleek maneuvers to get past, but Batman stopped every one of them.

"You´ll have to get through _me_ first," Batman roared, half inebriated by his cold, red fury. He was so overdosed on adrenaline that he hardly felt anything but that.

Batman unleashed a series of martial blows and kicks; Yuri feinted and ducked it as best he could, although to small success. Yet, Yuri couldn't help but grin. He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and pulled his knife from his belt. Batman lunged at Yuri, who swung his knife at him. Batman parried with the gauntlet, sparks striking off the metal gauntlets. Yuri thrust his knife at Batman's chest, and Batman dodged dangerously close to the edge. Yuri kneed him sideways, swinging Batman off his balance. Yuri struck down at his head, but Batman crossed his arms, catching the blade in the scallops of both gauntlets, holding fast until he yanked his arms in opposite directions, breaking Yuri's metal masterpiece in two.

But Yuri used this to click another small blade open and jabbed it between the plates over armor covering Batman's ribcage. His massive gear was no match for the impact. It felt like a thunderous wave had just knocked him off his feet and into a raised plate of glass.

Yuri threw his blade-less handle to the floor, satisfied at the shattered glass underneath Batman's body. He bent down, grabbed Batman's shoulders, hauled him up and smashed his head into Batman's.

Batman stumbled back, losing his footing. He tried to swing his arm out but Yuri caught it effortlessly and kicked Batman's open ribs. Yuri then raised his fist to deliver another blow, but he froze with what looked like pure ecstasy for a split second too long.

Batman felt the raw, hot adrenaline pump through his veins again. He rose to his feet, elbowed Yuri's face and struck him several more times with the same arm until it was Yuri who drew back.

Then, a shatter of glass rained down from outside followed by a piercing scream. Batman turned and bolted for the window just when Sarah fell among shards of crystal glass. He crashed through and dove straight down after her.

Sarah dropped, plummeting through space, falling to certain death. Batman whipped out his grapnel and shot it into the air above him. He heard a loud clank overhead and knew it had been lassoed securely on a high beam. He fastened the grapnel to his belt and plunged forward, coming closer and closer to Sarah until he could feel her hands desperately grasping for him. He snagged Sarah's wrist and activated his one good wing. They spun horribly as Batman enveloped Sarah, they were dropping too fast. Her hair flying over her head, she grabbed unto him and held tight. They continued to fall, two bodies falling and twisting together at an enormous speed, coming closer and closer to the ground pavement. Sarah feared they would never stop and prepared herself for the inevitable…

But she screamed slightly out of shock when they finally stopped with a jerk. Batman straightened his body and Sarah's, his armor groaning as he did so. He didn't waste any time and released the grapnel on his belt, letting them drop the rest of just three feet. But Sarah held fast to him, shaking considerably, violently.

Batman said nothing to console her, only wrapped his cloak around the both of them and the next thing Sarah knew, she was being lifted into the air again. Still shaken and terrified, she clung to him and hid her eyes in his chest. The police were still looking for them, but Batman hid them in the dark crevices and in the dark alleys of Gotham before they finally reached the door of the Church. Batman opened the heavy door a crack and pushed Sarah inside before closing it behind them.

He bolted the door and took a step back. They were inside, finally safe…

Sarah's legs were shaking so hard she almost fell. Batman took her by the waist to steady her and sat her in the back pew.

She shuddered at the memory of falling, of seeing Jareth like that… She wrapped her arms around herself and felt Batman's hand on her shoulder, grasping it lightly.

"Stay here," he said quietly. "I'm going to make sure we're locked in."

"What is it going to take?" she asked, staring straight ahead. "When is this going to end? Why me, what have I ever done?" The stream of questions came out to no one in particular, but she looked up into the masked face of Batman as if he had all the answers.

He stared down at her and said simply, "you're still alive."

She looked away again and choked down a sob. "I try to be strong… but I'm so afraid. I'm afraid, and I'm angry."

"You _are_ strong," he countered.

"And what about you?" She flashed him a defiant look, her voice laced with anger. "You're just a man. You should know your limits."

"I have no limits." Batman paused and gave her a piercing stare. "And you're welcome," he said, before quietly disappearing.

Sarah scowled and sat quietly in the back of the Church. She looked over the aisles of empty pews, the flickering candles beneath the marble statues of the Virgin Mary and St. Joseph. She stared mutely at the numerous carvings and colored stain glass windows of angels, devils, and saints. It was a harsh contrast to the modern world outside its stone walls that held in an impenetrable silence.

Her gaze fell on the golden altar ahead of her. It almost glistened underneath the grotesque image of a bloody Crucifix. It was as bright as the sun on a clear day. Intrigued, though not knowing why, she stood as if in a trance and walked down the aisle toward the steps of the altar. She passed listlessly through the Church, and above her the high ribbed vaulting began to dissolve away like dust in the wind...

* * *

Batman checked every door to the Church, even the little Chapel that was hidden away, was securely locked. Confident that nothing was going to get in, he made his way silently to the back of the Church – but the pews were empty. He stopped short, scanning the devastatingly quiet Cathedral. Through hooded eyes, he finally spotted Sarah at the front of the altar with her back turned to him. He narrowed his eyes, slightly bothered that she had moved. But he was resigned to go to her; she obviously couldn't be alone for very long. He wrapped his cloak around himself and called her name quietly.

There was no answer.

He said her name again, this time more forcefully, but still no response.

Batman finally froze when he noticed how stiff Sarah's body had become, and how perfectly still she was. Her arms suddenly rose slightly as did her chest. He screamed her name and rushed to her when she was lifted off the ground as if something were holding her up. She remained immobile, her body now levitating two feet off the ground in front of the Crucifix.

Batman felt something he thought he had locked away a long time ago – real, consuming fear. He felt it crawl up his spine and form a dark pit in his gut when he saw Sarah's eyes had turned into pools of black. She stared upward with those lifeless eyes, and without looking down at him, a voice came from her mouth; not belonging to Sarah or to anything of this world.

The voice had nearly ripped away his strength, his courage when it said one word.

"Bruce…"

* * *

Sarah kept walking through the Church, never noticing that it was quickly crumbling away from her. She only stared, hypnotized by the golden altar and the Crucifix until they too had disappeared.

She walked on silently through a desolate landscape of broken columns and grumbled masonry, alone. She stopped suddenly at where the altar should have been and looked over a precipice jutting over an eternity of black night laden with stars. She stood at the edge of the abyss, highlighted by the bright backdrop of comets and stars.

A rasping voice came from the shadows and spoke her name. She turned and stared open mouthed at a black hoofed demon. Flames flared at his nostrils, and when he roared, it came thundering out of a cavern-mouth.

Sarah stood frozen, effectively trapped on a final promontory.

Black and terrible, the demon rose over her and bared his fanged teeth. She staggered before the onslaught of evil, falling to the ground. The muscle hump behind the demon's neck bulged and cracked. It burst open and a pair of leathery bat wings unfolded. Sarah was speechless with horror. She couldn't avert her eyes, they were held transfixed unto the horrible creature towering over her.

The demon's eyes blazed red as he rushed forward and thrust a clawed hand into Sarah's chest, running her through. She screamed like a wild thing, her lungs threatening to jump out of her throat. The pain, the burning was too great; it felt like she was being scalded or branded by fire.

The demon then howled with her, bringing his clawed hand back to him and looked down into his palm. A deep hole had been burned and singed into his flesh.

Against her chest, Sarah's diamond glowed brighter than any of the stars behind her. Sarah struggled for breath through pained and heaving rasps as she tried to raise herself up. She clutched at her chest with shaking hands, but no trace of a wound remained on her flesh. Her hands then searched the ground uncertainly; looking for something, anything… she finally felt cold metal beneath her hand. She looked down and found a sword lying by her side.

Without another thought, she snatched the sword and swung at the demon with a defiant scream. The demon parried with his claws and sparks flew.

Sarah swung again. The demon caught the blade in his bare hand and held Sarah immobile to meet his malevolent gaze.

"Don't you know me," he spoke to her mind, invading all corners of it, "don't you know from whence I come..."

Sarah's eyes were wide with astonishment. The question that plagued her for months rang through her mind like a thousand toll bells.

"Why?"

It answered her, black ooze dripping out of its mouth. "There will be signs in the sun, in the moon, and in the stars, and on the earth distress of nations, the sea and the waves roaring; men's hearts failing them from fear, for the powers of heaven will be shaken!"

Sarah struggled to understand the immensity of this revelation, and she wavered in the demon's grasp.

Suddenly, all at once, the white light emanating from her diamond flared up from the shadows, white and pure. It speared the demon straight into his mid-section. The demon screamed, staring down at the shining ray of light thrusting out of his chest. The light lifted the writhing demon high in the air, impaled like a kicking insect. Like a flaming blade, the light flung the demon over the edge and into the abyss. The demon tumbled into the haze, his final howl a lament from the depths of Hell. At the last moment, the falling figure of the demon transformed into a black cloak and sailed off into the shadows.

Sweat on her brow, Sarah watched the demon disappear into the eternity of blazing stars. Silence pervaded once more. The altar appeared again amid the night sky and the Crucifix followed. The stars disappeared and were replaced with the golden light of candles.

Her vision still blurry, she stumbled on her feet trying to find her balance through the haze. She swayed and fell against a hard chest, Batman's chest. He nearly crushed her against him, holding her close and upright as she took in one deep breath after another.

He held her until the violent trembling had subsided… she had seen and been through too much tonight.

"Come on," he said, turning her away. "Time to go."

She was too weak and shaken to move, much less walk. "Go?" she barely choked out against his chest. "There is nowhere to go now…" She lifted her head to look up through her hair.

But Batman didn't say anything. He tightened his arms around her protectively as she trembled against him before they went out into the gray of early morning.

By sensor remote, Batman was able to bring his vehicle to them in an isolated alley, where they hid, waiting. He lifted her inside and fastened her in faster than she had seen Superman move at times. Soon they were moving, and he kept to the alleys and back roads he knew would not be heavy with traffic or cops. She shuddered as a current swirled around her, threatening to bring her down into sleep, and she couldn't fight it. She was physically exhausted. Her arms and legs were limp, burned out completely from adrenaline. She fell into a deep sleep, and gratefully knew nothing for a few still minutes.

* * *

He spun an everlasting carousel of crystals within his hand, each one coming up darker than the other. It had been like this for hours. And for several days he had submitted himself to an isolated existence of cold, raging fury. If he allowed himself even a second alone with Sarah, he was afraid of what he might have done to her. He hated her as much as he adored her. She truly brought out the best and the absolute worst in him.

Yet the shadows he retreated into grew into a sort of comfort. He relished in his anger, which soon gave way to despair when he realized he couldn't find Sarah in any of his crystals.

"You want me dead," he told the undulating mass surrounding him.

"Never!" they assured. "We need you alive."

"I need her alive!" He crushed another crystal in his hand.

"Ssshe lives!"

"Then why can't I see her? Why am I still in this darkness?"

"You wanted thisss."

"I wanted her!"

"And you ssshall."

"Then take me to her."

"Not yet."

The mass became bigger and with it, Jareth's growing impatience.

"Why?"

"Ssshe is not herssself."

"I don't care!" With that, Jareth sent a whirlpool of dark energy into his hands, and the crystals exploded around him in a halo of glass.

The goblins hissed and recoiled in sharp pain, and within an instant, they circled around Jareth. They surrounded him on all sides like a thick blanket of black smoke. Jareth found it hard to breathe under this dark curtain; he couldn't see his hands that once held his crystals.

"We take you on our termsss," they hissed all around him.

Jareth felt his hands drop by his sides on his own accord. He bowed his head in silence. He had never prayed before. After centuries of living, of knowing that there were beings like him higher and lower, he knew his place in the hierarchy. He never interfered with the order and the order never interfered with him. Now he felt himself calling on every power of the cosmos, silently willing all the magic he knew. He would beg for Sarah's life if he had the chance. These dark goblins had grown too powerful, even for him, because he had let it. But if anything had happened to her, he knew he didn't want to live anymore, and would submit himself to an empty oblivion.

The black curtain of goblins finally parted and he found himself in a cell, much like one of his own oubliettes. His heart dropped at the thought of Sarah trapped in here. But isn't this what he wanted? What he thought she deserved?

He took a long careful look around to find any signs of blood or struggle, or any clues as to how Sarah might have escaped. He saw nothing but dank, stone walls with a locked door. Had she somehow escaped on her own?

No. Batman was here.

But how had he missed this? How had everything managed to slip under her his gaze? His eyes hardened at the answer. The goblins. They were using his rage, his fury and blocking him from her. They had been thriving on his misery and desperation for too long. And for that the price was enormous.

Batman had certainly come for her. But he hadn't. He had no idea as to where she was. She had been hidden from his sight. And all of because of his pride. He felt his whole being grow heavy with guilt that he hadn't been here to help her. Even worse that he had wished something like this to happen to her.

He froze.

He wished this, and his goblins heard him. They were gaining access to his power and they had granted that one wish. He bowed his head again. He could literally feel his magic seeping away from him now. Like a tiny leak in the dam.

"She is alive?" Jareth asked his goblins.

They took a long while to answer, letting his grief and desperation feed them.

"Yesss."

* * *

Gentle waves of snow-covered land rolled out endlessly. The sun rose regally up out of the distant silhouettes of the hills; a spectacular golden sphere of light. Its radiance ignited a vast landscape of gentle snow-white slopes and foothills; without a shadow in sight.

Sarah opened her eyes and rose slowly, watching the sun rise over the snow. She stood alone in the vast blanket of white and turned around several times before something caught her attention. She heard the sound of desperate hope rising through the cold air, through her ears, and into her soul. A circle of pure, white light flowed in front of her; endless and timeless, swirling around in an infinite ring of white light. She was drawn to the cries of the helpless and the prayers of the forlorn inside this circle. Her heart and her soul cried out with them and at that moment, she felt as radiant and as terrible as the great sun that shed its light on their pleas for peace.

Sarah jumped, opening her eyes and found herself standing in the same plain. But the snow had melted and a strange twilight filled the Earth as the sky threatened a storm. Thunder rolled like the slow, deep roar of a giant bear. Rain came pouring down and soon, Sarah was drenched. She blinked, attempting to clear the water from her eyes and found Jareth slowly stepping towards her. He was soaked to his skin and they locked gazes for a moment until he finally spoke to her.

"You were once a night sky filled with stars. I loved you. I still do. Since the moment I first saw you, I have needed you with me. But I'm dying before your eyes…"

Sarah stared at Jareth, transfixed and disturbed by this. She stood, almost paralyzed, absorbing everything. Jareth then closed his sharp eyes, and became pulverized by the rain.

Blue-white lightning slashed the sky as more thunder rolled and rumbled over their heads. Sarah turned her face to the rain and felt Jareth fade slowly. The rain trickled down into her hair and throughout her arms and legs. She shivered when she felt raindrops slither down her back. One drop, then another and another, until she opened her mouth to breathe in whatever air she could find.

His presence then filled her dream again as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. In her ear, a tender Jareth whispered, "My precious, for your love I will not melt away."

* * *

The doors of the penthouse elevator finally opened. Batman limped inside with Sarah hanging onto his side, her arm draped over his neck. She had woken when he tried to lift her from the tumbler, and in her delirium, she refused to be carried. But when they stepped inside the penthouse, Sarah had suddenly doubled over so violently that Batman lost his grip on her. She fell to the floor and clutched her stomach as an immense pain raked through her. Batman dropped to the floor with her. She was dripping with sweat and hot with a raging fever.

He wrapped his arm around his chest and grimaced in pain just as Alfred rounded the corner and rushed to their side.

"I tried getting here as fast as I could," Batman rasped as Alfred dropped to his knees.

Alfred looked at Batman. He had heard Bruce use his voice in such a way, but he knew he would never get used to it. "What happened to her?" he asked, lifting her head gently.

"Poisoned," he said, "tortured. God only knows what else." Batman reached into his utility belt again and pulled out the antidote that was meant for Sarah. "It should still work," he said, piercing the needle into Sarah's arm. "Only I don't know how much of the toxin she was given."

Alfred smoothed back her hair and checked her pulse. "It's steady," he noted, sighing. "It's a miracle she's alive!"

Batman groaned and struggled to get to his feet. The stab wound from Yuri had turned into a dull pain, but the Kevlar weave had prevented most of the blade from entering his ribcage. It was nothing a few stitches couldn't fix.

Alfred studied Bruce in his creation, in his outer demon before he spoke. "You did a fair bit of good tonight, sir." Bruce's suit was badly torn; some patches had been completely shredded away. "I'll have Fox tidy your suit."

Batman merely nodded his head. "I'm going to need stitches."

"I'll do it. When you stitch yourself up you make a bloody mess."

"But I learn from my mistakes."

"Of course."

Sarah suddenly lurched awake, gasping for air, and turned her face to the side. She coughed violently before droplets of spittle pooled on the floor beneath her. Alfred held her hair back as she convulsed into a coughing spasm. When her coughing subsided into deep, hurried breaths, Sarah looked up and her eyes softened at the face staring her back.

"Alfred…" she whispered, "Alfred… are you real?"

He stroked her hair back and smiled wanly. "Yes, miss."

Sarah's gaze suddenly shot up from Alfred towards the back of the penthouse. Morning was just breaking through the windows, and in its yellow light, Sarah recognized Jareth's golden halo of hair immediately. Shock overtook her first, and then she blinked, scooting back, struggling against Alfred's steady arms. An uncontrollable rage suddenly overtook her as she lunged forward. Batman easily caught her before she could get past Alfred, and she was easily held back. Being in Batman's arms calmed her rage but not completely. Both he and Alfred looked at the spot where Sarah was so fixated on. But there was nothing there.

"Get him away from me!" She screamed and lunged forward again, only to be pulled back more forcefully. "Where were you?" Sarah screamed. "Why did you leave me there?"

Jareth stood, watching her, frozen as the sun rose higher.

Batman grabbed her waist and lifted her off the ground, carrying her away. His gloved hand clapped over her mouth as his other arm closed around her like a vice. She squirmed against him, but to no avail. His strength was inhuman and he easily held her against him, his hand silencing her screams.

"It might be a side effect," Batman said, turning her away. "Hallucinations."

The pain ripped through her once again. She threw her head back as her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clasped her head as she cried out for it to stop. Alfred struggled to remain calm, but his brow began to sweat in fear. He reached out for her trying to remove her hands from her head.

Sarah jerked away from his touch with a growl. "Make him go away!"

"Who?" Alfred asked evenly.

"He's right there!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Alfred stood in front of Sarah and was able to free her hands from her head. "Sarah, look at me," he demanded of her. He cradled her face within his hands, and the touch of his skin to hers soothed the pain slightly. Trembling, she leaned back into Batman's chest.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered, her voice beginning to crack with the strain.

"Sarah, look at me." She did as she was told this time. He spoke firmly, and calmly. "You've been poisoned." She struggled for a moment him in fear, but Batman held her still. "We don't know how much, but you've just been given the antidote, and you might be relapsing because of it. You _are_ hallucinating, but it will pass…"

Alfred suddenly stopped when Sarah went limp, gasping for air. He felt her skin burning up again under his hands. "She's burning up! We have to cool her down."

Swift in his movements, Batman quickly gathered her up and rushed into the pool room, the fastest place he could think to take her. But the pool had not been heated in weeks. He gently, yet urgently, placed her within.

Sharp stinging pain all over her skin brought Sarah out of her delirium, eyes shooting open as she screamed out. She was surrounded by freezing water and weakly thrashed about trying to free herself from being pinned down. She screamed and sputtered through mouthfuls of water, but strong arms held her down refusing to let her go. Her struggles ceased as her body began to numb, her damp pink lips trembling from the cold as her hands held onto the arms that were wrapped around her. Breathing hard, her body felt a stinging pain against her skin from the cold water. She felt weak, cold and hot at the same time, confused, and unsure.

Batman held her close to him, his suit damp but unaffected by the cold as half of his arms were immersed within the freezing water. Feeling that she would no longer struggle he freed one hand and stroked her dark, wet hair away from her face.

Sarah took a breath, relaxed a bit, and submerged herself completely underneath the water as she closed her eyes, the water closing out any other sounds but the beating of her own heart. A single white flash suddenly entered her mind startling her from out of the water as she sat up, wiping away the water from her eyes.

"Sssarah," she heard disembodied voices whisper all around her.

The water splashed out of the pool as she was roughly pulled out of the water. But before her eyes, another flash blinded her as she tried to frantically wipe at her eyes to see her surroundings. A cold chill of air and the cold sting of the floor swept over her exposed skin before dry towels were wrapped around her. To Sarah's ears everything was heard. The swishing of the cold water after she had been taken out of its depths, her trembling breath, her own beating heart. She could hear each of their heartbeats as well, each breath that they took, every movement that they made.

So weak, she could barely stand trembling in Alfred's arms. She didn't have to stand long as Batman swept her up into his arms and carried her out to the adjoining sunroom. Sarah remained silent, too weak to talk. Carefully laying her down, Batman pulled the towels up over her body protecting her from the cold. The fever had gone down considerably, but she was still weak from the shock of moments ago. He understood her silence, her confusion and the look of bewilderment within her eyes.

Alfred checked Sarah's pulse again and lifted her lid to check her pupils. "She's fine for now. Just in shock."

Batman breathed in deeply and stripped the cowl off his head. He looked out, scanning the skyline. "Crane is still out there. And he'll stop at nothing to find her again. She's the only one to have survived that amount of poison."

Sarah moaned, moving her head from side to side.

Alfred placed his hands on either side of her face, placating her. "Sarah, stay awake." Sarah sighed and struggled to open her eyes. She couldn't fall asleep just yet, after receiving the antidote, and experiencing her hallucination, they both weren't sure if she would ever wake up again.

"She's exhausted," Bruce said, "but give her half an hour. If she doesn't hallucinate again then let her sleep." Bruce carefully lifted her up and carried her to her old bedroom where he laid her on the bed. Alfred placed a blanket over her and they both stood over the bed, looking down at her for a few silent seconds.

Bruce breathed deeply through his nose and stared down at Sarah, her black hair strewn wildly around her face, her eyes wide in shock.

"We have to get her out of Gotham," he said grimly.

Alfred looked over at Bruce, his eyes wide. "Where would you take her?"

"I don't know. Away from here. Away from Gotham."

Alfred shook his head again, clearly not liking the idea. "She needs to remain in one spot. You can't move her again now. She's obviously not well. Not well at all."

Bruce sat down in his chair, exhausted, and held his head in his hands. "Alfred," he said quietly, "I don't think she's hallucinating."

Alfred came to his side. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I saw something at the Church, something that scared me, really terrified me." He shook his head and looked up, hoping to find an answer in his old friend's eyes. "I don't even know if I can explain it..."

"Try, Master Wayne."

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder and kept it there until Bruce shred every piece of the Batman from his skin, shaking as he told him of Sarah's levitation in the Church...

* * *

**AN: **It's that time of year again! I love to add new chapters as 'gifts' for each holiday up until the New Year - if I have the time, of course. But lucky for you guys I celebrate Halloween and Day of the Dead so I'll add the next part in just a few short days.

As another side note, I really want to thank FelineNinjaGrace for all of her feedback and input. It was lengthy but it really steered me into a clearer direction. I tip my bonnet to her.

And to Kuroneko, you have no idea how much I want to bring Supes back, but this isn't his story. But sometimes, dammit, I wish it were.


	33. Sick of Magic

"She's gone," Dr. Crane lamented.

Yuri and his man, Petrov, stood by and watched Dr. Crane pick at the charred flesh of his arm. Yuri himself was nursing a broken shoulder, a swollen cheek, a black eye, and a bruised ego. He didn't respond to Crane. He stared and he sulked.

"Batman," Crane said, almost fondly. "Oh it breaks my heart. It really does." He sat and scanned his arm carefully, the clockwork of his mind ticking away silently. "What to do? What to do? She was the only one that made me proud."

Yuri had had enough. They were called by Crane and it already seemed like a waste of time. "What do I tell my boss?" he asked impatiently.

Crane lifted only his eyes. "Let me give you and your boss an offer you couldn't possibly refuse." He leaned forward and his lips stretched into a joker smile. "I will give you triple the amount of the hallucinogens I supply to you at the same price. Bring her back to me. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter."

"Done."

Petrov stole a glance at Yuri, at the immediacy of the deal.

"Excellent," Crane said with a sick glee. "Til next time we meet."

They were clearly dismissed but Yuri paid it no mind. He turned on his heel and marched out of the dark cellar. When they were a considerable distance from Crane's cellar, Petrov came to Yuri's side.

"You could have gotten more out of the deal for the amount of work we have now," he hissed fiercely. "Batman has her now, and the only man I know who is willing to fight him again is you."

Yuri's mouth twitched into a crooked smile. "Why do you say that?"

Petrov put a hand on Yuri to stop him, something he would usually never do. "Why did you end it so quickly?"

"When the boss sees what I have," Yuri reached into his pocket, "it won't make a difference either way." He pulled out a perfect diamond strung on a chain of pure, gleaming silver.

* * *

Sarah slept in very late the next day. Bruce had moved her into her old bedroom and Alfred didn't bother trying to wake her throughout the day. The bright sunlight that shone throughout the bedroom didn't even wake her until four in the afternoon. Even then, she was still exhausted. She turned her head and found a platter of food next to her. Alfred had left it for her. Sarah eyed the meal on the plate with disgust; the mere sight of food sickened her. She couldn't even bring herself to drink from the water glass. She turned her body over and covered her face with her hand. She barely had any food or water since she stumbled back into the penthouse, delirious and in pain. Her nerves were absolutely shot to hell, sleep and her appetite would come and go in weak spurts.

A voice on the wind caught her attention, so soft she wasn't certain if it was in her mind or not. Her hand dropped and she turned back over, her eyes dancing over her bedroom. Then she heard it again, soft and low, asking for her fear…

Wrapping her arms about her, she shakily took in a long deep breath, trying to block the voice from her mind. She was so receptive; her mind so open and vulnerable… the vision of a dark grin fell as a sudden pain ripped through her mind. She jerked back, hands clutching her head as the pound of a mental blow hit her full force. She could feel thin lips on Crane's face stretching into a grin, knowing that the whispers were weakening her confidence. It would not be long until her mental stability would weaken and she would give in…

Gripping the edge of the bed, Sarah looked to the window with increasing dread. She could feel something strange inside of her stirring; she felt restless, wanting to scream. Her hands went up over her ears as she hunched over, fighting against the onslaught of whispering words that echoed within her mind, yet seemed as if they were being spoken directly in her ears. They were laughing at her, taunting and provoking her.

She grit her teeth as she summoned all the mental strength that she had to push their intrusions away. Brick by brick, she shut them away until she shakily grasped the sheets, nearly exhausted. By now, it was close to sunset. She did not know how much longer she could block them out like this.

She turned over and became quiet until she fell into another restless sleep. She knew she was lying in bed, but she felt awake, wide awake. Her eyes felt heavy as she lay back and felt her 'dream' self fall into a deeper sleep.

Blackness enshrouded her. It was like being stuck between space and time, in limbo. Finally, out of the haze, came a vision of a doorway flanked by two statues. They were women draped in sheer linen, blindfolded and holding candelabras in front of them, lighting the way inside an enormous cavern. She felt herself floating deeper inside until she came to the edge of the lake. The candles were scattered everywhere throughout the cave and above the water. Lights reflected off all the surfaces like stars on a cloudless night.

_"This__ is __the __closest __I__ can__ bring __you __to __the __Underground __without __your __consent,"_ his voice boomed throughout the cave and sent ripples across the lake.

Sarah felt herself fall back from the tremor of his voice until the candlelight faded away, replaced with the church in the abyss of stars where she had nearly conquered a demon. She lay on the cold stone floor, unable to move. She felt a shadow grow from the floor, higher and higher until a figure with red eyes and a scaly black body towered over her. It reached for Sarah with its enormous black paws covered in scales and ending in claws raked over her white body and lifted her hips.

With a start Sarah jerked awake from her sleep, the dream heavily within her mind.

Instinctively, she reached for her diamond, but found nothing there. She felt a shock go through her immediately and shot up, desperately searching for any trace of it on her body. She looked over at each bedside table, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark. She scanned the room frantically until her eyes caught Jareth sitting in a chair, carefully watching her. Catching his eyes, Sarah stared at him, unflinching. She smelled leather and sandalwood. The very last rays of the sun filtered in, causing the diamonds on his high collar to cast a tiny network of stars on the walls of her room. In this light, he saw her eyes widen while her pupils shrank to adjust to the dim illumination.

"Where is it?" she hissed.

"Where is what?"

"My diamond! Where is it?"

"You must have lost it."

"I've never just _lost_ it!" She got on her knees and began disheveling the bed in a frenzy. "I've… I've never been without it." She tore apart the sheets from the mattress and flipped the pillows away.

"Yes you have."

She flipped her hair up and glared at him.

"You were without it for over twenty years."

"This is different, and you know it! It's the only thing I have left of him!"

"Him, him, him," he sighed. "Your sun god, your white knight, your perfect, perfect being of all."

"Stop it," she seethed, her voice changing into something deeper. "We've been through all of that!"

She still searched through the bed, but it was becoming clearer that it did not fall off her neck during sleep. "I don't understand… I know I had it, in the Church." She paused, thinking. "The pool!"

Sarah flipped her legs over the side of the bed, but a wave of nausea swept over her, and she couldn't fight it. She pressed her lips together and put a hand over her stomach. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders and hid her face. Her eyes closed, she breathed deep until she managed to bring down the small ball of sickness that threatened to come. She finally looked down, and noticed the cut of her shirt was deeper than she remembered; the center of her chest was visible and damp with sweat.

Jareth held still and lowered his head, propping it on one hand. Casually, he stared at her, studying her appearance. Although she had lost some weight in the past few days, she had regained some of her sheen while here. Outwardly she seemed relatively unharmed, but he knew better, he knew _her_ better. Small scrapes and bruises covered her exposed calves and forearms, but she looked more tired than anything else. The nausea, most likely caused by the toxins, would stay down for now. His spell made sure of that. Pressing his lips into a thin smile, he grunted in near-silent relief.

"Why didn't you come for me?" she suddenly asked him.

From his corner, the King raised an eyebrow. Her voice had even changed. It was no longer the soft, lilting tones of a young woman. It was huskier, deeper; like smooth midnight velvet. He felt a tug at his heart and sighed, pushing his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

Silent moments passed, and it frightened her. She tried to question him again. "Why can't you remember? Is it because I was coming back here?"

Their eyes locked. Her pupils swelled in anticipation. But he looked away from her. Disappointed, Sarah took a sharp intake of breath and shut her eyes.

"I warned you," Jareth said darkly. "I warned you of this place, that this world would slowly kill you."

She opened her eyes and turned back to him, blinking furiously at the stars he cast on the wall. Here was a dark angel. Of harsh treatment and dangerous threats. Of many, many promises. The sunlight flickered, fading fast.

"You would dare say that to me now." Her whole body had tensed like a cat's. "After everything I've gone through – pain, torture, poison; you would _dare_ say that to me. I felt horrible for what happened, after leaving Bruce the way I did. He knows this world is cruel, but he is trying to make it better, he risks his life for it. And he's trying to help me survive in it."

Jareth lowered his gaze, looking forward through his bangs. "Tell me what I can do to persuade you to return with me," he pleaded. She noted the tension, the near panic in his voice. He was trying to convince himself more than anything that she needed him, that she would be safe only with him. "Sarah…"

The way he said her name made her shiver with cold. "Stop it," she snarled. "How can I possibly put my trust in you now?"

The silence hung thick for a moment before Jareth caught sight of the tremble in her shoulders. He longed to touch her, but knew she would turn him away.

"Sarah…" he tried again. "This can all end, all will be forgiven."

Her voice came out in a shallow, rasping whisper. "To live with what you've become."

He glared at her for a moment before raking a leather-clad hand through his mane of hair. "What I've become."

In front of her eyes, Sarah began to see the lake from her dream begin to form between them. The glassy surface shimmered in the air and the ripples lapped lightly at his chest. She began to see it as a wall. Beyond the lake hovering between her and him was the personal lair that was his inner soul and heart.

"What is the last thing you remember?" she asked him quietly.

Jareth caught the distressed look on her face and shifted his position. A swell of tension floated from his shoulders. He pressed his back into the wall and clenched his jaw. "What are you asking me?"

"The last time you saw me, what do you remember? Tell me the truth."

Jareth sighed. "You were walking down the street, late afternoon. You weren't supposed to be out. It was too dangerous. I didn't know you coming back here." The way he said 'here' was like spitting poison from his mouth. "That's all. Nothing more."

"Do you remember a light, a valley, the one you took me to a long time ago?" She was desperate for a particular answer. "What about last night? You came to me again."

His head tilted in confusion, and then his eyes narrowed. "I swear I did not." His tone was as baffled, yet as honest as it could have been. He was telling the truth, although he was concealing something from her, she could hear the echoes of it, but couldn't tell what it was.

"You told me you loved me."

"I have told you that truth many times."

Sarah shook her head. "Not like this. You were so… different."

Jareth was becoming frustrated, that much was obvious. His cheekbones were more pronounced as he took deep, hurried breaths. "Sarah, I do not know what you speak of. I swear on all the powers I have ever known, I do not know."

Sarah also felt her temper begin to rise. She couldn't help but slam her hands on the bed. "Why can't you remember anything? You, with all your power, didn't know where I was for days. Why?" She waited for him to say something. But he only stared, his head beginning to lower, but his eyes stayed on hers in a dark manner. "I know that you are good," she said. "I know it! But if you don't show me then it doesn't mean anything!"

The diamonds on his high lapels suddenly flickered when he leaned forward sharply. "I gave you sanctuary!"

"But where were you?"

"Did you call for me?"

"Did I have to? I didn't call for _him_!" There was a silence then, they both knew who she meant. "Why didn't you come? Why didn't you stop those men?"

Jareth made a noise in the back of his throat and sat back again, shifting and looking away from her. Sarah's face crumbled. She had always believed love to be kind, never jealous, never thinking about what it wants, only what it needs. And she needed him. But love could also be cruel, if it was denied. Imagine someone who has lived his entire existence Underground and never felt the touch of a true kiss. Defeated, humiliated, and deprived of human affection. Is it no wonder his soul would become so tortured? Yet darkness, evil, and vengeance clung to their own kind and didn't co-exist with virtue, goodness, and mercy.

"I can't be bound to your shadows," she whispered in her husky voice. "I can't take my nightmares, I can't take the voices!" She rounded her shoulders, exhaling so hard her chest burned. Her words flooded out in a breathy rush. "I'm in constant fear now. And I would die, I would die if I chose you! I've seen _his_ darkness but yours is something that's beyond my power to heal. Don't make me your one chance for living. It's not fair."

Jareth longed to reach for her, to caress away every pain she had had to endure. Looking into the past, he thought part of that pain came from him, if not most. Even covered in sweat, and justifiably angry, he wanted nothing more than to protect and comfort her in her grief, caused by him. He wondered if he could ever rebuild her trust again as he sighed, deep and slow, catching her eye. Had his powers, his control been lost so much to them? He would have to regain them again, but he needed her, he needed her light to help him. He believed in that more than anything. But had he managed to extinguish that light completely?

"Dearest Sarah," he murmured, fueling his voice with all his frustrated desire to touch her. "I am here now," he soothed.

"Is it too late?" her voice was filled with doubt. "You promised me everything I could ever want. But I don't want jewels or royalty. I'm not fifteen anymore. Bruce took his mask off. He dropped his pride and opened his heart to me…and then he came." She paused, afraid to garner momentum again. She expected him to leap up in a fury and find Bruce…

Instead, Jareth lifted his chin, his hair drifting down the angled sides of his face. "I am sorry Sarah." Even he didn't know if what he said was true anymore, but the words felt right on his tongue. He saw the tremor in her shoulders. She looked so tired. "For everything I've done, for everything I may do…"

"No!" Sarah hissed in despair, "don't…"

A knock on the door, and Sarah jumped like a startled animal. She rubbed her arms when she felt the heat of Jareth's presence leave the room. She wiped at her eyes and sniffed. "Come in," she called.

Bruce walked inside, and immediately, a sense of protection and security surrounded her. She pulled her hair back and pulled her clothing up, giving herself some modesty. They smiled wanly at each other.

Bruce glanced over at her full food try. "Aren't you hungry?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

Bruce eyed her carefully at the change in her voice, but he didn't seem appalled by it. "Your appetite will come back soon." He flicked on the small table lamp and sat in the chair next to her bed. "You seem to be doing okay, after everything…"

Sarah brought her blankets over her exposed legs and avoided his gaze. "Delusions and all?"

"Have you had anymore? Alfred and I have been staying close by, just in case."

She shook her head in reply.

Obviously they didn't hear her previous conversation. She didn't think they would. And in the few silent moments that followed, Sarah began to think that it was the comfort of Jareth's presence in his higher self that outweighed the horrors that befell her. In truth, being ripped away from that reality was more crushing to her than everything she had to endure under Crane. She was beginning to realize the very real mental and physical consequences of Jareth's warning.

"Can I see your hands?"

Sarah stared at Bruce. It was as if he were reading her thoughts. Up until now, she had her hands covered with the long sleeves of her sleep shirt. She looked down and hesitated for a moment. But she felt she couldn't deny anything to Bruce anymore, so she slowly rolled her sleeves up and held her smoothed hands out to him. He reached out and softly touched his fingertips to hers, as if he were testing a kettle on the stove. When he realized his skin wasn't going to burn at her touch, he rested his palms on top of hers and kept them there.

"I'm not entirely sure what happened," she said truthfully.

Bruce turned her hands over, inspecting them carefully. They were normal, smooth, unscarred. When he released her hands, she tucked them back into her sleeves and sat on them. He hesitated then, not sure where to start, not sure of what the right words were that he needed to say.

"I've seen a lot of strange things over the years. But nothing like that."

"My necklace," she blurted out, "have you seen it?"

Bruce looked at the now empty space around her neck. "Your chain."

Sarah noticed he didn't say anything about her diamond attached to it. "Yes," she confirmed.

A look of compassion, not guilt, swept over his features. "No. That was the last thing on my mind."

Her face began to crumple. "It's gone..."

Bruce reached out for her and actually took her hands, holding them tight. Sarah was caught off guard, but it kept her from any possible hysterics. "If it's that important to you," his voice was knowing and empathetic, "then I'll do my best to find it. But I need to ask a few things first."

This man maddened her, both for good and bad, like no one human had ever done before. But he was also here with her in what would be her darkest night. She felt him squeeze her hand and she looked up at him through her lashes. Batman was there when she needed him, not just when she wanted him. His actions were consistent with his knowledge of right and wrong. Batman was sincere in everything he did, and so was Bruce.

"You saved my life more than once," she told him, "twice actually. No three times, maybe more. You deserve some answers."

He squeezed her hands again in reassurance and shifted forward. "Let's go back. Where did you go after you left the penthouse?"

She blinked several times before answering. "The theater."

"Don't go back there."

This was not the response she had expected.

Bruce finally sat back, his fingers lingering on her palms. "I think I know who started this whole thing. Unfortunately, there's not enough evidence to charge her."

Sarah knew exactly who he meant. Alexandra.

"For what?" she asked him.

"Exploitation, money laundering…" he looked at her warily, "procuring."

Sarah shifted and looked away, more annoyed than anything else. "I'm sure you've been covering for me. I didn't really want to be Cinderella anyway." Bruce gave her a curious look, but she shook her head. "Don't ask."

He waved it aside. "I should have been the highest bidder," Bruce sighed, "maybe then none of this would have happened."

She laughed under her breath. "Your morals got in the way."

"They always do. Have you noticed that your voice has changed?"

Again, something she wasn't expecting from Bruce. She barely noticed the change herself, but immediately placed the cause of the change on her jarring return back. More than likely, that's when the other changes happened too…

"Is it bad?"

"No," he replied honestly, "on the contrary."

She relaxed a bit before a few more silent minutes passed. They just didn't know what to say to each other. Bruce was lost, but not beyond understanding, it would happen as soon as she came clean with everything…

"By the way," she murmured quietly, her face cast down, "thank you, for saving my life."

He was quiet for so long she didn't think he would answer. "You're welcome," his voice was low and husky, and sent unnatural shivers down her spine.

She needed to change the tone, quickly. "Even though you locked me in the tower," she said, "you risked your life for me. It takes an extraordinary person to do what you did."

"Maybe it was my way of making it up to you."

"I just hope I don't end up with Stockholm syndrome, after all. And now I'm forced to ask if part of what you do is for the thrill."

He rested the side of his chin on his fist and spoke from the side of his mouth. "I'd be lying if I said no."

"You're a hard man to understand."

"Me?" he asked, with a dry mock. "I'm easy. Especially after a couple of martinis."

"The glib, cavalier routine, it really is a good act. You're a good actor in your own right." She drew closer. "I mean, think about it, you're three different people. Bruce Wayne in public, Batman, and the Bruce I see."

"Don't believe any of it," his tone shifted to his careless persona. "I'm just skin deep."

"See?" a real smile began to break, everything else outside of their banter slowly became forgotten. "You're really very good."

They smiled at each other, although Bruce's was hidden behind his fist. But Sarah could see through his grey eyes that he was immensely relieved to see her alive and alert. He was truly proud of himself for bringing someone back into his fold, alive. As well he should be. But he held her eyes, and in the smile that passed between them, there was a sweet kind of electricity.

"You really need a shower."

Now she laughed out loud at his blunt remark. It may have been a few days since she had a decent shower. At least he wasn't giving an open invitation. She let her light laughter subside and after a few moments of comfortable silence, Bruce turned his face to the window, sitting very still, waiting for something, his grey eyes glowing in the near-dark. Sarah never did have adequate lighting in this room.

She looked up at the sky with him and sighed, "Is there anything else you want to know?"

He turned his gaze back to her. "The night at your friend's house," he said without hesitation, "the night you disappeared."

Sarah's face slowly dropped, and she shifted away from him, bringing her knees to her chest. She rested her back on the head board and stared at him. "You wouldn't believe me."

"I'm finding it hard to wrap my mind around all of the impossible events of recent weeks. So just try me."

Sarah frowned and she looked carefully at Bruce. There was a sadness in him that was so visible to her now. "I guess if a man can fly…" Her voice was soft, but forceful, pleading with him to understand. "Then a girl can run a Labyrinth in less than 13 hours… and come face to face with a King…"

The window suddenly flew open. An evil wind whipped through the room and they were suddenly hit with a biting cold. Bruce moved to block Sarah from the wind. She climbed off the bed and came to his side, but Bruce suddenly became horribly stiff, she could actually feel his body tremble. He turned around to face her, but he looked past at the presence he felt standing in the dark corner of the room.

Sarah watched as Bruce's face turned deathly pale and stricken. He breathed fiercely through his nostrils. Suddenly, he pushed her aside and squared his shoulders back. Sarah stumbled back and looked over Bruce's shoulder.

Jareth's features hardened into something vicious as a fierce wind blew the window clean off its hinge, and a dark energy swept into the room. It hit Bruce like an express train and coiled around him like a smoking whirlwind. It became stronger and stronger until the whirlwind became a violent, hurricane-like gale. Sarah's hair flew back like a sail and pressed herself next to Bruce, watching with sick fascination.

Before the mighty, relentless gale nothing could have held, but Sarah stood tall next to Bruce, becoming stronger and more powerful where her courage was needed. A course growl sounded and then running feet, many of them. The walls surrounding them began to tremble and shake. Everything that was strewn about the room – bits of paper, old books, candles; everything around them began to fly off in all directions.

The lights flickered madly as the snarls and sinister moans came closer to her. Glass was thrown and shattered against the walls, Sarah watched it all happen, but didn't back away. Something brushed against her arm – cold and angry. Sarah could feel it wrapping around her like a coarse rope, and she gasped as she brought her arm up to her chest.

Bruce tried to step in front of her, but she pushed him back, and he stumbled under her steel strength. "Get back!" she screamed at him, as if Bruce were a child in the line of danger.

With a savage snarl, Jareth walked forward, trailing tendrils of smoke. Eyes wild with rage, he stepped up to Sarah, his lethal gaze falling on her steady figure. "You defy me at every turn!" Jareth roared, his nostrils flaring. "I warned you!"

The sheer look of rage on his face nearly sickened Sarah, but his words struck a chord within her. "No!" she screamed at him. "I'm warning _you_! Don't you come near him!"

Jareth didn't hear her. He moved forward, the walls shaking violently. Objects tumbled to the floor; a porcelain dish was thrown next to her head and smashed against the wall. A heavy book just barely missed her side, the sound of more feet following her; raspy breathing and eerie voices seemed to claw at her neck.

Sarah straightened, lifted her chin, and stared him down. Jareth met her gaze with a determination all his own, and after several fierce breaths, another wave of power was thrown. Both Sarah and Bruce struggled for balance as the surge headed for them at tremendous speed. She gasped as it nearly hit them, then split and went around, tearing at the very walls.

"Do you see?" the Goblin King bellowed. "Do you see this power, Sarah? You are no match for it! You are too weak!"

Something in Sarah snapped. She was again protecting someone she cared for from someone she believed she loved, and for him to call her weak on top of it. She felt betrayed, enraged, and exhausted from it all. Her anger was so fierce and hurried she lost all thought before she could speak. "You said yourself, you would be damned if you brought harm to me. And _I_ will never forget what happened here!"

His silence stiffened the air, and the tension gathering within him was becoming deathly cold. His eyes narrowed, and his icy voice nearly cut through Sarah's flushed body.

"I have warned you time and again, and I warn you still!"

The gale suddenly became deathly cold and the screams reached an unbearable pitch. It ripped through Jareth in one swift stroke and rushed for Sarah. Bruce grabbed her shoulder, attempting to pull her back, but Sarah stood where she was and turned her face away, cringing under the icy blow. But she never stepped down.

Jareth stepped close to her, intimidating; he was getting too close to Bruce. Instead of backing off, Sarah moved towards him. She pushed herself toward Jareth, knowing it was too dangerous but she needed to go to him, she needed to stop him. A fierce strength of will raged through her entire being as the storm seethed all around her. And as she stepped closer, she seemed to step through a veil that separated Jareth from everything else. It was still and quiet here. This was the eye of the storm.

She felt her strength, warm and solid seeping through her; her power within her rising to a crescendo. She stood in front of Jareth now, not the Goblin King, and she was completely in control now that it was the two of them.

"Only you," his voice added to the chill of the sphere that surrounded them, "could have come this close."

Behind the cynicism of his voice lay a deeper pool of profound misery, a black hollowness only Sarah could see. She moved even closer, and reached out her hand. She touched his face, lightly, the way a butterfly might. Surprising himself, surprising her, he took her hand and kissed her palm. She could feel his inner lip, the moisture of his mouth, the hint of his tongue. Here, her knees went weak. There was no burning or electricity. For a moment, she was back in a world of light and air, and she smiled with bliss.

Then it was gone.

Everything had disappeared in a second; the sun, the storm, Jareth.

Sarah gasped and clutched her fists to her chest, fighting for air. Something fell right through her fingertips again, the calm after the storm evaporated and passed through her slowly, gently. She shut her eyes and took several deep breaths, letting the leftover magic in the air and her anger slowly seep out of her very skin. She gradually opened her eyes, exhaling deeply, and saw Bruce in a battle-like stance, still facing the spot where the Goblin King once stood. Sarah touched his arm and Bruce jumped and stared at her, as if he had been woken up from a nightmare.

Something outside the window both caught their attention. A giant projector, beaming a batsignal on the fast night clouds; it was a pale light, bathing their faces. It seemed all that remained of the storm was a light and the city wind.

Sarah looked over at Bruce. His mouth was pinched in a tight frown. "I have to go," he said, returning her look.

This was what he had been waiting for. He was needed somewhere. But he was clearly torn about leaving her, and thoroughly, utterly stiff with tension. From fear, confusion, admiration; all of it showed on his face.

"Go," she said softly. "He won't come back." But Bruce didn't move. She stepped closer to him and touched his arm. "I promise he won't come back."

He looked down into her face, he was filled with anxiety, but she with assurance. "I don't feel right leaving you," he told her.

"Go," she gently grasped his arms, pleading with him. He had to leave. "I _am_ safe here. And I _promise_ I will be here when you come back."

He grasped the crook of her elbows ardently, and for the first time, Sarah saw the sharp glint of obsidian in Bruce's eyes. She drew a pointed breath, waiting. Bruce finally pulled her away from her completely. The last of the spell had been broken, and he took one last look at her before he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

* * *

**AN:** Yes, yes, I know I was supposed to have this and another one up this month, but I've had to edit a lot of unnecessary elements out. Plus I have finals coming up next week so I'm a little stressed with that. Anyway, much love to FelineNinjaGrace for her help.

Shalom y Amor


	34. Wounded

Sarah stood at the window taking in the gloomy skies of Gotham City. It was the middle of summer but the sky was covered with grey. It had been like this all day, and it would last into the night. How does an entire city carry on and continue its business knowing that scum and corruption lay just beneath its surface? Knowing that a masked man was out there protecting them and trying to shake them out of their apathy. People still lived their lives, ran their errands, worked their jobs, raised their children – but it was twice as hard to do in this town.

Bruce had been gone all day and the previous night. There was no word from him. No news as to what he was needed for, who he had found, if he was wounded, or worse. On a dismal, overcast day like this, it was hard to be the slightest bit optimistic. Sarah turned from the window and paced the room again, but with a limp as her ankle was still badly swollen.

As much as she tried to wet them, her lips remained chapped and dry. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, her hand flew to her forehead as another wave of nausea passed over her. This poison wasn't leaving her body. It stayed inside of her like a parasite. Her head swam before she stumbled to the side of the couch, leaning against it. She needed something cold again, and she weakly made her way back to the window. Vertigo didn't seem to affect her; the height was actually a comfort. She pressed her fingertips against the cold glass and looked upon the darkening city and its people.

A presence then filled the room. One she was all too familiar with. She rested her forehead on the glass of the window and closed her eyes.

A few moments of silence passed before Sarah wearily raised her head. "I was waiting for someone like you my whole life," she said with difficulty, her breath rasping and harsh. "Someone who could take me away from the world I couldn't understand and accept as real. Because I knew things were different from what others saw." She opened her eyes, he was nowhere in sight, but his aura still filled the room, like a phantom. "And then you let me see the world for what it really was… and you're right, I don't like it. Why do you think I was so enamored of Superman? Or why I now respect what Batman does?"

"What Bruce Wayne does," he nearly snapped.

"Does it matter?" she asked gravely.

"It does." His sharp voice was a clear indication that he did not like what she was saying. "The price he pays for playing both roles will be tremendous."

"He knows that," she countered.

"Does he?" he was beginning to sound scornful. "Would you do the same if you were him?"

"I would."

"You have always romanticized the wrong person." His tone was vexed, and growing ever impatient.

"For all the right reasons; Clark and Bruce may have hurt me, but _they_ aren't the cruel ones."

"Cruelty is such an interesting matter!" Now his voice took on a dangerous edge. "I use cruelty when it serves my purpose. Just as you do. You and I are very much alike, much more than you would like to admit. I know you better maybe than you do yourself. And I know, ever since our first meeting, that you have the potential for cruelty within you. You can be as cruel as I can be, I have already said that to you once before, and that is why we match each other so well. I knew then and I know now that you would kill to protect what you think belongs to you and to get what you want. You have nearly killed me, twice."

"I did what I had to!" she spat. "You didn't give me a choice! And you know I could never, _never_ kill anyone. Not even you. That was never my intention."

He didn't say anything more, and she took this as a silent, yet brooding compliance. But she could feel him move nearer, and she could feel his breath on her cheek even as his voice spoke softly in her ear. "Forgive the old habit of chastising."

Warmth bloomed in her stomach and spread through her veins. She didn't say anything more on the subject. What was said was said. But her body was tense even as it grew warmer.

"He knows you now," she whispered. "He's seen you."

His invisible arms slid around her waist, and she gasped as he pulled her against the length of his body, still unseen. "I know…" he murmured.

Her breathing was already erratic, and she tried desperately to hide it. "Is that what you want now?" A sharp intake of breath when she felt his fingers clench. "What am I going to say to him?"

His arms tightened around her. "You were more than willing to tell him everything before I came in. Now he has no reason to doubt you." Harder and harder, he squeezed her waist. "So what will you tell him?"

"The truth."

She felt his hands run over her shoulders, his left stayed at her arm, but his right she could feel brushing down until it hit her waist. Sarah gazed ahead of her, fighting her pounding breath as his hand came up and rested on the place where her diamond should have been – just between her breasts. She was certain he could feel her heart racing. He had once claimed that that had been the one thing that held him back from taking her to the Underground with him. She felt a cold chill run through her. But his hand stayed and neither of them moved.

"Yes," Jareth replied in her ear, "the truth."

A hand passed over her hair and down her neck. She shivered, almost violently. She was becoming drawn to him in a trance-like state, hypnotized, and fascinated by the beauty of his voice, his desire. She couldn't tell if it was a spell of his making or her own longing. But her transformation was growing in her mind; he was drawing out her womanhood.

She turned back to the gray city laid out before her. This feeling, this want was similar to diving into a lust-filled relationship that was certain to end badly.

"Sarah," he coaxed, "don't pull away from me now. Let me hold you."

Sarah decided to remain still. What could she say? How could she think of a response when she knew of none? She wanted, needed, to be held by him in some form or another.

"You did not fear me," he breathed next to her ear, "you walked right into the storm and did not cower." He pulled her to him viciously again and held even tighter. "You sought to protect him against me, didn't you?"

Sarah winced. It was like someone was tightening a corset around her waist. She closed her eyes, waiting for the nausea to come, but Jareth's arms seemed to hold it down.

"We are well matched, you and I. We are powerful in our strength and tenacity. And you are _cruel_, Sarah. Admit it." He demanded it of her, but her silence was a blunt refusal. "I wonder," he mused, "if even in death… would you refuse to look upon me? As Iokanaan would not for Salome."

She pulled away again as much as she could, and she felt his arms release her gently. If she could see his face, she wouldn't have been able to look at him. She didn't think she would ever become accustomed to his devastating splendor.

"Why is there a curse between us?" she whispered. She truly didn't understand.

Jareth didn't say anything more, but she felt the hand that lay on her chest move to her side, curve over her hip, down her thigh, and her leg. Finally, his hand rested on her swollen ankle. She cried out, that familiar shock of electricity went through her ankle and up to her knee. His hand stayed until it turned into a warm, almost stinging sensation. And then the pain was gone, her ankle was healed, Jareth's fingers pulled away gently.

Sarah stared down at her feet. That was the first time Jareth had performed any form of healing magic on her. She looked down at her bare arm, and noticed that it was clean of all bruises and scratches. She wanted to say something, anything, but then she felt him begin to move away from her.

"Wait!" she called after him desperately. A longing suddenly welled up inside of her. Alfred had been down in the vaults monitoring and guiding Batman through Gotham. She couldn't speak to Jareth in this form when she was in this state. "Wait, please! I have to talk to someone." She felt him pause, waiting. "I have to talk to my friends. Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus… Please, won't you let me at least see them?"

A long silence ensued.

"I cannot," he finally said.

Sarah slumped against the window. She had once remembered them as being so real and physical. Now they were like a distant memory, almost like they didn't even exist at all.

"Can't they at least see or hear me?"

Again, a silence so long that she thought Jareth would never answer, that he would simply stand in the shadows like a Phantom. But then she felt the window become freezing cold, so much so that it burned her hands. She stood back and watched as the skyline disappeared and the glass become black, like a scrying mirror.

Something stirred.

"Sarah?"

A gruff voice came from the black. She knew it instantly.

"Hoggle?" she called out. "Hoggle is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me!" She could hear Hoggle clear as day, but couldn't see him. "Sarah!"

Sarah couldn't contain her excitement. She wanted to run to the black glass but remembered the icy cold that nearly froze her hands. "Ludo? Sir Didymus?"

"We are here, fair maiden!" Didymus cried out, "thank goodness thou art safe and sound!"

"Can any of you see me?"

"No," Hoggle said. "We only got a black mirror."

"Me too," Sarah stepped closer. "Oh, but it's good to hear your voices again!"

"You sound different," said Hoggle, "your voice…"

"We have had no contact with you for ages it seems!" Didymus cut in. "But our King assures us you are safe and well-guarded."

"Yes," she replied. "I'm safe. I'm safe inside… a castle, Didymus, in the highest tower in the city. It's well-guarded with… weapons of every size."

"Oh thank goodness!" Didymus cried. "But my lady, why art thou so well-guarded? Are there enemies and ruffians running amuck in the city?"

"There are, but I'm not in trouble now. I'm safe." Sarah bit her lip. "There is a knight… he protects the city and the innocents who live in it."

"And he guards you as well, my lady?"

"Yes… and the King is here with me too."

"But, how does one knight guard an entire city?"

"He's very good at what he does, Didymus."

"We was worried about ya's," Hoggle said.

"Sawah sad…" Ludo's tender voice echoed through the room.

"No," Sarah held her hand to the window despite the cold. "No, I'm okay, Ludo, I'm okay…" Sarah sighed outwardly. Ludo had always known more than he let on. She felt her heart beat harder against her ribcage, and then that nausea swept through her again.

"What's happening?" Hoggle asked. "He wouldn't tell us nothin'".

"I'm fine, Hoggle," Sarah tried to remain calm, though her voice cracked. "Please don't be angry at me for not speaking to you…"

"Of course not, my lady!" Didymus replied eagerly. "We were resigned to it. The master Toby is a pleasure for company."

"How is he? How is my family?"

"They worry about you's. _We_ worry about you's. But _he_ kept tellin' us we weren't allowed, and said to stop pesterin' him. We're still worried about yous…"

"Please don't, Hoggle. Didymus is right, I'm very well-protected."

"Sawah sick…"

"Why can't we see you's, Sarah?"

"I don't know. I can't answer that. But we'll see each other again soon, I promise."

"Somethin's happenin', Sarah, somethin' rotten. The Labyrinth ain't what it used to be. _He_ ain't what he used to be."

Hoggle's voice was suddenly gone and the black slate was replaced again by the skyline of Gotham.

Sarah suddenly became very hot, both with fear and a deep stroke of loss. "No!" she screamed, throwing her hands up on the window. "Jareth, bring them back! Please!"

The world started to spin as her heart beat faster. She felt dizzy and lightheaded. Suddenly something hit her with a force she had never before encountered, her vision blocked as a blinding light hit her eyes…

* * *

It was hard for him to concentrate. He couldn't get the image out of his head. He couldn't be rid of that taste of fear. Everything he had ever seen, everything he had ever done was nearly nothing compared to what he just witnessed.

He was trained as a warrior in the strictest sense. For years he was locked away in the snowy mountains of Tibet to endure pain and fear, but all of it disappeared within seconds. He had tried so hard to be brave and strong in the face of his deepest nightmares, but it was Sarah who had taken that place. Sarah – the one he was trying to protect. She showed no fear. She had that look of icy fortitude in her eyes that he had only seen in the most fearsome of men. And the strength she had when she pushed him back… most men were not that strong.

He pressed his fingers to the ear of his cowl. "Alfred," he said, "can you hear them?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred answered in the intercom. "More clearly than you, apparently. Your scanners pick up no more than twenty, having a round of cards I would imagine."

"One of Gordon's men said he saw two of them enter through the basement."

"It seems they've been using the building as a hide-out."

"Hiding in plain sight."

"They're on the seventh floor."

"Yuri?"

"No mention of him yet. I'm keeping my eye on you, sir."

On the tallest building in the glittering skyline of Gotham, Batman pulled himself together and crouched on the roof. The blades of his gauntlets clicked into place, the helmet-like cowl was pulled tight over his head, his cape in the form of a hard faceted pack. From the rooftop, Batman launched into the night, dropping from the tall tower, his pack burst open, becoming his bat wings as he glided down to the lower building, streaking around it, banking hard to line up with a window in the rear.

Batman hurtled toward the glass and collapsed his wings, wrapping his cape around himself and burst through the window, rolling across the floor in a flurry of broken glass.

A group of men pounced from their seats and reached for their weapons. But Batman was a night shade, violently taking down thugs one by one. He dodged bullets and punches with liquid stealth. The bullets that did strike were stopped by his Kevlar. There was an endless amount of levels and stories in this building that had yet to be finished. Batman had literally just crashed a Russian gambling party hiding out in a skyscraper that was still under construction.

A group of men stood around Petrov and fired away, but they never hit their target, some even shot their comrades in the chaos. Soon, their rounds were finished and they were forced at hand to hand combat, it didn't take long for them to fall. In the wake of broken bodies, Petrov was the only one standing.

Batman landed like a panther on the table in front of Petrov.

Petrov, his gun empty, backed away, fighting the terror rising in his gut. He held his hands up defensively. "I don't know where the Scarecrow is," he said.

"You're Yuri's man," Batman rasped. "He would know."

Petrov was coming closer to a precipice without his realizing it. "I-I only answer to Yuri..."

"You'll answer to _me_!"

Batman hurled himself at Petrov and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, holding him over the edge; it was at least a thirty foot drop. Below were a stack of tables and turned over chairs.

"No!" Petrov screamed, clearly terrified at this point.

"Where is Yuri?"

"You would kill a man to get answers?"

"The table should break your fall, or your back."

Without thought or even mercy, Batman pushed him off the edge, exactly where the round tables were. Petrov nailed them and lost his breath completely. Batman flew down, landing over him, and hauled him up. Petrov hollered in pain.

Batman roared in his face. "Where is he?"

"Are you looking for me?"

A thick, hoarse voice asked from high above. Batman looked up and saw Yuri grinning down at him with several more men. He and most of the men were high up on a moving gantry, getting farther and farther up. Batman tossed Petrov down and started scaling the scaffolding after Yuri. He climbed fast but Yuri had too great a lead.

Cursing at himself, Batman fired a Batarang. The bat-shaped clamp bit into the wooden base of the rising gantry. He toggled the launcher into winch mode, and was hoisted fast towards the rising gantry above. One of the riding thugs leaned down, saw the rising shadow, grabbed Batman's rope in both hands and flipped over the gantry like an acrobat. He slid down fast to kicking range and drew back his boot to stop Batman.

Batman hit a switch on his launcher, increasing the winch speed, shooting him higher, faster. He grabbed the thug's foot in his hand, and shoved him upward so his head cracked against the bottom of the gantry. Batman swung the unconscious thug onto a hanging construction hook, leaving him dangling in mid-air. He finally hoisted himself up onto the gantry and was ready for a fist layered with metal rings. Batman took out two more men before the gantry finally stopped and he was faced with Yuri again.

But Yuri didn't move to attack. He was composed, unmoving. His calm lent him an odd dignity, and he regarded Batman with something approaching pity.

"I will find her," Yuri said. "The stakes are much higher now, Batman! We _will _find her!"

Somehow Yuri's words seem to shake Batman a beat. Because if he didn't know how to protect someone from a nightmare, how would he stop Yuri?

Batman seemed to stumble and it was all the distraction Yuri needed. He smashed Batman across the face. Batman stumbled backwards. In his mind's eye he saw a raging storm contained by a dark figure, and Lori Lyons bloodied on the pavement. Lori who had looked so much like Sarah.

In a black fury, Batman regained his senses and charged Yuri. They crashed into each other like two wild dogs and quickly came to blows off and away from the gantry. Yuri was able to grab Batman's arm in a lock and nearly snapped off his shoulder. Batman roared with pain. But in his rage, Batman rammed Yuri into a thick pane of glass which quickly spidered. Yuri, bleeding from nose and mouth slid to the floor. Batman stood over him, a creature possessed. He grabbed Yuri and held him up before he punched him across the face, hard. He let Yuri go to build momentum to throttle him again, but Yuri looked past his shoulder, slipped, and fell out of sight. Batman could hear a small thud followed by a faint trace of laughter coming from below.

He didn't hesitate to drop down silently; it wasn't far, a twelve foot drop. But there was no sign of Yuri. Batman stalked the long, open room. Everything was quiet, deathly still.

Until a body plowed into him with unnatural ferocity and skill. Batman managed to parry and thrust with his good arm but Yuri dodged his advances and kicked him forward, slamming his face harshly against the wall. Turning, Batman was met with sharp blue eyes as Yuri's fist smashed the side of Batman's mask. Batman could feel blood seeping from the now open wound on his cheek, it stung against the air. Now he began to panic, a good portion of his mask was gone.

And Yuri could see the fear in his eyes. He was beginning to break the bat. He smiled slyly before he grabbed Batman by the neck and shoved him violently. He crashed loudly against the ground and overturned a row of steel pipes and scaffolding beams. He shattered construction tools into pieces before Yuri brought him to his feet again.

Yuri popped a switchblade and jabbed his knife into Batman's side between his kevlar. Batman recoiled in pain. Yuri kneed him in the gut, energy exploding from his stocky frame, kicking the injured Batman back towards the glass. Batman flew backwards through a window, glass shards flying everywhere. Yuri kicked out a wooden brace holding up a steel frame. Batman's arms flew up as it came crashing down onto his neck, saved by his protective gauntlets. He grunted as Yuri stepped onto the steel beam. Batman struggled to keep the beam from crushing his neck as Yuri crouched down, hovering above Batman's face and arms.

Yuri clenched his teeth, his whole body twitching with the overwhelming need to kill. He held the switchblade at Batman's throat.

"Listen," Yuri said, blood dripping from his lip. ""What are you hiding for? Why the bat? To frighten?" Batman grunted in reply, his wound was deep. "I guess," Yuri scoffed. "But what have you ever accomplished from there? Aside from scaring a few punks and putting a few more in jail."

Batman's voice came from the pit of his stomach, almost like a growl. "It all adds up."

"Not fast enough," Yuri snapped. "If you really want to make a difference, if you really want to change the system, you can't be subtle about it, you have to step into the sunlight. Ah, but then you become acceptable, and once you bring yourself out of the shadows and into the light, what's there to fear?" Yuri shifted his weight, and in doing so, opened Batman's wound even further. Batman grimaced in excruciating pain.

"Then what do you do?" Yuri continued. "Do you start killing people if they go against your anarchist system? But wait, you don't kill. Not that I've seen. So then what's there for criminals to fear? The whole reason _for__ this _Batman, striking terror in the hearts of criminals, has been wiped out."

"That's why I work as a vigilante, not as a law enforcer."

"You _are _a law enforcer. You've changed everything. There's no going back. There are things Batman won't do, but there's nothing we as criminals won't, which is why we will always win in the end. You heroes always have to work within the lines, criminals do not."

"I'm done talking."

Batman's scallop blades fired out of his gauntlet, nailing Yuri in the arm. He staggered back as Batman was freed. He knew he wouldn't be able to finish the fight in this state. He made a split-second decision and leapt backward over the edge. He fell about five stories before his cape popped open and he landed with a harsh thud. He groaned like a wounded beast, clutching his gut.

Batman took deep, ragged breaths through his teeth, struggling to overcome his pain. And then the flashes came again. The rushing darkness, a demon with the mane of a lion in the center of it, dark shadows that crawled and flew at him in all directions; flaming eyes, elongated limbs, spinning like a dervish. He reeled back, lost in the throws of his own hallucination.

He barely heard the small metal clink of a grenade. But he still heard it. He lurched forward, but the images still assaulted his mind. Deep in his memory, bats exploded from the dark crevice in flames as Yuri swung two grenade launchers before him. Yuri took a step back as the grenades flew, only thirty feet away from Batman. He turned and without a second look, headed out of the building.

A tremendous fireball split the night. It was all-consuming. The blast hurled Batman backward into a wall. The entire floor had turned into an enormous inferno. Debris fell everywhere as the mouth of the hall suddenly brightened into a flaming white fireball. It rushed towards Batman as he wrapped himself in his cape. He reached into his utility belt and pressed a stud. His cape began to run and flow like black water morphing into a protective sphere just as the tremendous fireball roared down the tunnel engulfing Batman in a world of flame.

Billowing smoke, residual flame and falling debris everywhere. Batman leapt desperately at the windows and smashed through, his cloak ablaze. As he fell, he tried to activate his cloak, but could only get one side to pop open. The deployed wing caused him to plummet, trailing flame, and the unopened wing flapping like a screeching, fluttering darkness. He fell, dropping and dropping, smashing through protruding wood and pipes. He landed hard.

Smoldering, Batman lurched into an alley, raised his grapnel gun, and fired up at an enclosed roof. He rode up and punched his way through wire and metal, crawling onto his back, staring up at the skyscrapers of Gotham. The images of bats fluttering still blurred his vision, and before the darkness finally descended, he saw his Father crumple to the ground before him.

* * *

The pain that shot through his whole body was enough to bring him out of the dark of unconsciousness as he slowly, agonizingly pulled himself up. Batman inwardly cursed at his inability to stop Yuri. He just kept slipping through his fingers. But he blamed himself for it completely. His focus had been lost and his emotions had compromised the entire operation.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He was broken, beaten, his right leg useless; yet he managed to haul himself up the steps one at a time. Dried blood caked his face, his chest. Dizzy, exhausted, his body strained to the limit, he slumped against a wall to steady himself, then reached into his utility belt for a painkiller, and forced the capsule back onto his dry, swollen tongue. Quaking all over, he tried to draw himself erect, and toppled over, landing with his full weight on the broken window frame of wood and glass.

He looked up, clenching his teeth in a monstrous grimace. And with an inhuman effort, he hoisted himself up again. For a full five seconds he was blind with pain. A ragged wooden shaft was buried in his right shoulder. Twitching, trembling, he reached up and yanked it out with a terrible scream.

He could hear the faint sounds of dogs. The Russians were coming back.

Batman hurried off, limping into the shadows. The dogs picked up the scent as the Russians poured into the alleyways, the sound of the dogs becoming louder and more ferocious. The Batman lurched through the alleys. Stumbling and bleeding. He barely made it back to the tumbler, and streaked through Gotham's underground streets like a wraith.

* * *

**AN: **I took a lot of scenes from "The Dark Knight" and put them in this chapter, if you've seen it more than once then you'll know which ones. I really must finish this before the next movie comes out, and luckily, I think we're coming to the end. Just a few more chapters! All my love to those who are still reviewing and thanks for the luck during finals, it came in handy =)

Shalom y Amor


	35. Bleed Like Me

Flashes came quick and swift with the feeling of slipping and falling through air. A pitch black engulfed her mind. Bruce staring proudly at a stone manor only to see it burn to the ground. Another flash. Madness taking over an entire city and then four, five, six people are dead. This time the flash was bright white. Flash. Dancers twirling faster and faster in a whirl of black, unable to stop. Flash! Flash! Flash! They didn't stop coming. Dancers twisted around her, staring and smiling at her. The flashes became brighter and brighter, until they stopped and she saw Bruce's body, alone and dirty. His face was a pale blue and his eyes closed to a deathly white, the once handsome features contorted by death.

Sarah felt herself struggle against this one vision, terrified she might be seeing something real. Long shadows began to seep out from the ground around Bruce and moved towards her, along with thousands of pinpoints of light, attempting to paralyze and smother her. They were dark, smoky wraiths that poured from every crevice, pooling and taking the forms of shapeless demons. The vision swirled and distorted around her in garish, nightmare colors. She cried to the faceless predators, holding her arms out as the shadows descended on her, cold and sharp, like an icy winter wind. They did not hear her, and soon Bruce began to recede, getting smaller and smaller, until he vanished entirely in infinite blackness.

Another flash.

She saw Batman alive but worn out, sweating and gasping for air. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, and listened for something she could hear too; a strange, thunderous sound coming from just below them. Then it became deathly silent and freezing cold. Batman was abruptly slammed up against the wall as Sarah screamed out in terror. Seen only in her eyes were dozens of black wraiths surrounding and assaulting Batman in a violent torrent. She screamed again as three more piled onto his back from behind. One of the creatures bit him, tearing through the kevlar of his suit; the sudden flow of red blood flowing down his arm. Roaring like an animal Batman tried to throw them off in a chaotic frenzy, but to no avail.

She screamed again, and finally the thick veil of unconsciousness dissolved.

Sarah jerked upright, finally awake, but immediately clutched her head as though it were splitting apart. The world spun, dancing with the feverish glee of a spinning kaleidoscope. Opening her eyes was more than painful, it was nauseating. Sarah rose on one elbow, and before even pausing to check her surroundings, she gagged, fighting against her nausea. Groaning, she lifted her hands to her face, fingers slick against the sheen of sweat that had formed on her brow. After taking a moment to recompose herself, Sarah ventured to look up. She blinked once and pushed herself up unsteadily, her thoughts still in disarray.

"Miss," Alfred had been kneeling beside her. "Sarah…"

"I'm fine," said Sarah, though not very assuring. "I just fainted… I shouldn't be out of bed."

"You're quite right," he put her arm over his shoulders, "let me help you up." But he stopped, and listened. Sarah couldn't hear what he was listening for; her head still felt like it was underwater. Alfred gently released her and picked himself up. "Wait here, miss." Alfred quickly made his way toward the penthouse elevator, but the halls remained silent, even after the buzzing in Sarah's ears began to fade.

Trembling, Sarah managed to push herself up to a sitting position. She turned to look over at the window, hoping to see a black slate. But the sun was just beginning to rise over Gotham, and with the light came a sense of an ominous foreshadow. She could sense it the way animals sense a storm coming. Sarah shuddered, a feeling of dread filling her body as the hair on her arms rose to pinpoints.

The sound of the elevator door to the penthouse opening and closing managed to reach her. Sarah froze, the shivers still racking her body, but she listened to Alfred's voice followed by a huge thud.

She ignored the sharp stab of pain in her head when she scrambled to her feet and raced down the stairs. "Where is he?" she cried. "Where is he, Alfred?"

Sarah rushed over and would have collapsed into Bruce's arms, but was horrified to see the state he was in. She came to his side and tried to hide her horror at seeing him like this; shaking, sweating and bloodied – almost exactly like she had seen in her vision.

Batman grasped her arm and staggered on his feet. He struggled for breath through strained gasps of air until he fell against the wall and then heavily onto his hands and knees. She dropped down with him as he still clutched her arm. He was still in a state of shock, the growing pain becoming almost unbearable. His masked head dropped then fell to the side to look over at Sarah. But he looked right through her, nothing in his lifeless eyes indicated that he knew her.

Sarah wanted to touch his face, but she knew he had many devices on his suit that inflicted pain when someone got too close to his mask.

"We need to clean his wounds," said Alfred, "and he has many…" He paused, silently debating the best course of action. "We have to carry him to his shower."

Sarah glanced up at him uncertainly. Her nursing instincts were kicking in, and she didn't doubt her strength, but taking this massive suit off would be dangerous to both Bruce's wounds and themselves.

"Master Bruce, look at me."

Bruce turned his face towards Alfred's voice, but didn't really look at him.

"We're going to clean your wounds as quickly as we can. But we need to undress you. Turn off the stunner on your cowl."

Batman emitted a low moan and pressed something between his thumb and forefinger. Sarah trusted that he had understood and reached over to pull off his cowl.

Bruce Wayne stared up at her with dulled, sightless eyes then turned over. Pressing his forehead to the floor, he tried to dull the burning pain in his legs, back, and chest. He was barely aware of a pair of arms wrapped around him trying to help him up. Slowly gathering his feet under him, he pushed himself to an almost upright position and shuffled to the bathroom, still unaware of someone else helping him. His vision kept blurring and his body shook with pain and exhaustion while Sarah and Alfred were trying to carry the enormous deadweight of him.

Bruce suddenly lost his footing, slipped, and collapsed from the sharp onslaught of pain. Sarah cried out as she fell with him again onto the hard marble floor of the bathroom. But from there, her and Alfred bent to the not-so-calming task of stripping Bruce of his enormous suit. The cape was easy but taking off his armor piece by piece without adding harm to his injuries was more difficult than Sarah thought. Slowly, they pulled his gloves off, then his scalloped gauntlets, his boots, and his armor. Piece by bloody piece, Batman became Bruce Wayne again. Sarah began to slide his undersuit off his shoulders, and as her fingers touched his skin, she gasped harshly as he shot back and nearly took a swing at her.

Alfred grabbed his arm and restrained him. "Master Bruce, stop. Let us take care of you."

Sarah didn't need Alfred to tell her that the pain had overtaken Bruce's senses. He was still on the killing edge and it would take patience and skill to calm him again. Fortunately, Bruce relaxed at the sound of Alfred's voice and dropped his arm limply to the side. Alfred nodded to her and she reached out again, albeit hesitantly. Bruce shivered openly at her touch but he remained still.

Sarah's eyes widened as she slowly peeled away the fabric of his suit to reveal a bloody, sweaty, shaking body. She tried to ignore the red lines and welts that cut into his skin, and she tried to remain as composed as possible when they began to strip him from the waist down. A blush spread across her cheeks as she unbuckled his utility belt and shin guards. Her hands were gentle yet strong as they helped him into his very large shower, enough for eight people, really.

They sat Bruce down on the tiled bench, tilting his head up. Alfred turned the cold water on and Bruce was unable to stifle the sharp moan when his open wounds touched the water. Alfred and Sarah pushed him down with all their strength until the water completely rained over him. His blood swirled down the drain as Sarah ran her hands over him, cleaning him of all sweat and grime. He was chalk white, his body shaking from pain, and his lips trembled as water streamed down his face. Slowly, as the long minutes ticked by, Bruce began to tense with the cold. But by then they were all drenched to the bone. Sarah had to breathe through her mouth and her hair hung down in tendrils over her shoulders and back. She wished she could say that her trembling came from the cold, but running her hands over Bruce's body sent her heart racing, even if she was trying to aid him. It took everything in her to stay focused on the simplest of tasks.

Alfred held Bruce down as Sarah turned the water to warm.

"I must get his medical kit," Alfred said. "Everything we need is in there." They both looked down at Bruce. He hadn't opened his eyes since he tried to hit Sarah. "Do you think you can manage?"

"I think so," she answered quietly. She sat next to Bruce, the water pouring over the both of them as she examined him. She was careful to keep her eyes above his waist line.

"He seems to be out of danger. I won't be long." Alfred rose to his feet. "Don't be afraid to take your own swipe at him if he tries to move, just no where near an open wound." He quickly wiped himself down with a towel and rushed out of the bathroom.

Sarah ran her hand over Bruce's head to keep the water from running into his eyes. She wasn't afraid of Bruce; she could easily hold him down. She trailed one hand up and down his face, her fingers wiping the water and sweat away. She then captured one of her hands with his and gripped it tightly. The sight of him in such terrible pain tore at her heart. He was just one man without even the powers she had now, and he was in pain.

But it seemed Bruce had subconsciously had enough of being fussed over. He tried to stand up, but winced and dropped back down when Sarah placed her hands on his shoulders. He tried to pull himself away, but her grip was too tight, and the wound in his shoulder gushed with fresh blood when he did.

"No, don't do that…" she told him.

He nearly growled at her, baring his teeth as he tried once again to stand.

"Stay still," Sarah tried, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He pulled away again out of sheer stubbornness, his struggling only causing his wounds to sting and pulse. Her impatience got the better of her, and she pushed Bruce back against the marble wall of the shower, jostling his injured shoulder in the process.

Bruce screamed louder than any animal she had ever heard. _**"That hurt!"**_

She sighed and stood up, standing in front of him to block the water. "I'm sorry! But if you hold still it wouldn't hurt as much!"

"If you hadn't had run away none of this would have happened," he pointed out, very quickly laying the blame at her feet.

He was obviously coming back to himself, yet her natural defenses rose immediately. "If you hadn't had locked me up, I wouldn't have run away!"

Bruce opened his mouth to answer, and then remembered his uncontrollable rage and the look on her face as he glared at her; he knew she was right. Then he recalled what set him off in the first place.

"Well _you_ shouldn't have been in my vault in the first place!" he said triumphantly.

"Well _you _should learn to control your temper!"

Bruce raised his hand to bring out another point, but he had nothing. Sarah was right about that. He couldn't control it sometimes. He bowed his head down. "Do you mind?" He was reaching in the direction of where all his towels were hanging.

Sarah stepped out, grabbed a towel and gently tossed it into the shower with him. "Do _you_?" she asked him pointedly.

He shook his head.

She pursed her lips and bent her head over the two enormous wounds he had, one on his shoulder and one on his waist – nearly missing a rib. That one hadn't been properly cleaned of dirt and sweat just yet. "Lift your arm," she told him.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and steeled herself to have him jerk his arm out of her gentle grasp. Amazingly enough, his muscles tightened before he lifted his arm to let her have a better look. Sarah bent over the wound and checked it thoroughly for any remaining debris or dirt. She let the cold water flush out the grime before she was satisfied. She took the towel that lay on Bruce's lap and held it tightly to his ribcage. Bruce gave a surprised grunt, but grit his teeth and let her tend to the injury regardless of the pain.

"You should really go to a hospital," she told him.

"That's not necessary."

Sarah gently put his arm back down over the towel before sitting next to him on the bench again, water falling in tiny rivulets down their bodies. Bruce knew her touch now, and he didn't flinch when she laid her hand over the wound on his shoulder.

Sarah envisioned the wound healing under her hand, just as Jareth had done for her. She had incredible strength and a strange burning that came from her hands now. Maybe they could heal, too. Sensing her struggle, Bruce looked at Sarah, concern creasing his brow as he knew what she was trying to do. Her hands tingled from the effort, a warm sensation suddenly enveloping her hands as she pressed them urgently against his wound. She breathed deeply, evenly; and when the sensation was gone she lifted her hand to reveal a still bleeding, raw gash.

It was hard to hide the disappointment in her face. It must be the diamond, nothing would work without it.

"Who are you?"

She was taken by the uncertainty and weakness in his voice, but she answered as simply as she could. "I'm Sarah."

He looked at her, piercing her eyes with his; then they moved down to stare at her mouth. "And what did I see?"

"_The Goblin King."_

Feeling decidedly and painfully intimate, Sarah parted her lips to speak. But she couldn't say anything when his face was so close to hers, when his hand swept over her head and tangled his fingers in her wet hair.

Bruce suddenly balled her hair up in his fist. His voice had turned low, trying to force an answer from her. "What did I _see_?"

Sarah opened and closed her mouth. She wanted to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue, but she could see fear rising up in Bruce's eyes. It sharply reminded Sarah of a child's fear; something he didn't understand and wanted badly to cower away from.

Alfred came rushing back into the bathroom just in time, and Sarah pulled away from Bruce.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied, Master Wayne," Alfred said. "You've managed to ruin all of your good towels. Turn off the water please, miss."

Sarah was more than eager to oblige. She turned the water off and helped Alfred dry Bruce off. Alfred then gently put Bruce on his feet. "Let's put you to bed." He was as temperate and doting to Bruce as if he were a young boy again.

Sarah watched them leave, Bruce limping beside his old caretaker, and then she looked back and started cleaning up the blood that was left behind.

* * *

Alfred bit the thread and examined his stitches; his eyes scanned over the scars criss-crossing Bruce's shoulders and frowned deeply. Some of the recent ones had split open again. Soon Bruce's back and shoulders would be covered with them as permanent scars. He sighed and finished by placing an ice pack on Bruce's chest.

Sarah waited outside the master bedroom and heard Bruce hiss through his teeth. "It's getting harder to stay in control, Alfred," she heard him say. "I feel like I'm falling…"

"Master Wayne," Alfred said soothingly, "you have to be standing up to be able to fall. You couldn't fall if you were sitting on your ass, nothing's going to happen. Only brave warriors fall from their horses in battle. How can kneeling cowards know what a fall is?"

"Which one am I?"

Alfred sighed. "Why do we fall, sir?"

"So we can learn to pick ourselves up." Bruce had his answer and didn't say anything more. He took another painkiller under Alfred's watchful eye, lay back and began to fall into a fitful sleep, breathing deep but still uneven.

Sarah slipped into the room after a few minutes. "I'll stay with him," she whispered.

Alfred took the ice pack and draped a blanket over Bruce, tucking him in and careful not to jostle any injuries. "Are you sure, miss?"

"I won't bother him," she assured. "I'll be here to get whatever he needs. The two of us are too demanding of you."

Alfred just smiled. "I live to serve those I care for." He watched her settle into a chair next to Bruce's bed; then nodded, exhaustion becoming prominent around his eyes, and moved away into his own room.

Sarah sat and studied Bruce's sleeping face with her eyes. She had noticed a long time ago that people were at their most beautiful when they slept. They were completely at peace when the world around them was black and non-existent.

"_Like in death."_

Sarah violently shook her head at the thought, and focused again on the several small cuts and scratches upon his cheek and nose. A part of her felt proud. How Bruce must have fought and survived through such ordeals. He had developed such a keen strength of his own self-control. He had so much rage and power in him, not to mention money, that he very well could rule Gotham with an invisible, iron fist. But he chose not to. Bruce actually kept a balance between Gotham and in himself. He wore black, yet black was not always evil; only intimidating. Batman embodied the shadow side. He looked like pure evil, yet his values were of a virtuous man. He was a perfect union of two sides – the good and evil that coexists in every living thing.

After studying Bruce with her eyes, Sarah explored his face with her hand. His skin was clean but damp. Her fingers wiped the sweat from his brow and smoothed his hair from his face. She touched his cheek and jaw, and when her thumb grazed over his lips, she immediately stopped herself. She should have been touching another's face. She wanted another set of eyes and thin lips under her touch.

She gazed down at the man sleeping before her and that familiar, empty ache overtook her again. She pulled away and tucked her hands away into her sweater pockets. After this, time seemed to pass slowly and silently. She waited for a voice or a presence to appear, but nothing happened. Suddenly, Bruce moaned lightly as he awakened, and Sarah reached for him, resting a soothing, warm hand on his arm.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked in her direction, but then quickly squeezed them shut again.

"You're awake," Sarah's voice cut through the silence.

He took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes again. "I didn't sleep long, did I?"

"No." She placed her hand on his forehead. There was no fever, but he was still sweating. "How do you feel?"

Bruce groaned and put a hand over his eyes.

"Bad dreams?" she asked him.

He sat up, looked at her, and nodded his head. "Yeah…"

"Sorry, I know how that is."

"I don't remember… much," he looked distracted, worried. "I must have blacked out…"

"You took a couple swings at me."

He looked over and flicked his eyes over her, checking for any bruises he may have caused.

Sarah waved his concern aside as she sat next to him on his bed. "Don't worry. Our shower together calmed you down quite a bit." His body stiffened and his face suddenly turned bright red. "Oh, now you turn bashful on me?" she said dryly. "Well, don't worry about _that_ either."

Bruce couldn't laugh or even smile in response. He seemed to still be in a state of shock, but to Sarah, it seemed the weight of failure was pressing on top of him.

"Yuri got away, didn't he?" she asked him, her tone beginning to turn. Bruce looked at her, without any emotion, and she knew she was right. "Crane is still out there too… out there still looking for me." Sarah shook her head slowly. She couldn't believe she was even considering the thought, but the words wouldn't stay locked away. Sarah's voice was soft, but forceful. It was clear that her intentions were completely serious. "I want you to kill them both."

Bruce looked at her in a way he never had before. Not in a sense that he was seeing her for who she really was, but rather looking at something that was not a part of her – a parasite or a strange monster that had latched itself on to her. A pale monster with a lion's mane… Or maybe it was his own fault…

"Sarah…" he looked her up and down.

"Think about what could happen" she insisted. "You can lock them away, but for how long? I've known for a long time that this city is corrupt. Somehow, the Russians will work around the system. And they'll be out on the streets again. And all of your work would have been for nothing. You've ignored what they did in the past; blindly, stupidly ignoring the graveyards they've filled, the thousands who have suffered at their hands, the people they've crippled."

"This is against everything I know you to be, and everything _I_ am."

Sarah looked away from for a moment, her eyes falling to her hands in her lap. He was right. The thought was against everything she had ever believed in… but she would not feel safe, content, until they were all finally dead. Wouldn't that have been better for her? For everyone who still feared the mob in this city?

"Look at you," said Sarah, "you almost killed yourself tonight, and they would certainly kill you without any thought."

Bruce shook his head and looked down. "You don't understand..."

"What? Your moral code just won't allow for that? It's too hard to cross that line?"

"No!" he suddenly grabbed her wrist and squeezed, hard. "It would be too easy. All I've ever wanted to do was kill them all. Not a day goes by that I don't think about subjecting them to every torture that they have all dealt out to others. But if I do that, if I allow myself to go down into that place, I'll never come back. I have only _one_ rule. And I've never broken it. Not even for you. Killing won't take the pain away. It will only make it worse." Bruce stared beyond Sarah, into his own past; and his grip tightened even more. "Batman has to rise above this. So you don't know what you're saying."

Angry at being ignored she jerked away from him. "Yes, I do. I know exactly what I'm saying!"

Bruce reached up and his hands pulled her face to meet with his, eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "Do you really, Sarah? Do you really wish that of me? To take a life?"

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "I can't take this anymore. He's constantly trying to get into my mind, invading my dreams." She looked up to him, pleading with her eyes. "Those dreams are so vivid. He's always there haunting me." Her hands clasped his that were still cradling her face. "Crane… he's there. I can't get him out!

Bruce licked his lips and pulled her closer. "You should have lost your mind in there, Sarah; you should be a shell of a person. But you came out almost intact. I can help you through this because I should have gotten to you sooner. I swear to you I will help you get Crane out of your head and make you whole again." He paused then, and glared at her, his nostrils flaring. "But I will not kill."

Sarah's green eyes bored into his, easily filing through his thoughts, they were so easy for her to pick up on now it was almost overwhelming. And she was keen enough to detect a chink in his armor.

"It's not just the sadness, is it?" she said, her voice soft. "The shame is worse. Feeling like somehow you should have saved them."

His hands fell away from her face. Sarah may have well stabbed him in the heart and left the knife there. He shifted away, and refused to even look at her now.

"I'm sorry…" Shame and guilt overwhelmed her, until she finally had to look away from him too. Jareth was right. She could be incredibly cruel. "You're obsessed with being this other person. It's so easy to drop Bruce completely and you can't stop being Batman. Each day you're dividing between your true self and your secret identity. Who is the real person, Bruce Wayne or Batman? Can the two of you ever truly coexist?"

Bruce remained stoic, but Sarah was right on.

"Get out," was all he said.

"I'm sorry," she said again, before she rushed out of the room.

Sarah fought against the coming tears as she lowered her head and clenched her fists to her chest tightly. She hated that what she said had made sense to him; he knew there was truth in those words. The stinging of them within her thoughts and the sharp pain within her palms caused her to run to her bedroom. She felt shattered as shame and humiliation swept over her for what she had said to Bruce. He must have understood that she truly didn't mean all those things she said, especially the part about his parents. That could have been a moment where his rage might have spilled over and he would have broken his rule. But he never did. He was constantly reining his monster in – even with her.

Sarah couldn't take it anymore; she had a sudden burst of unimaginable rage. She smashed everything in sight, punched and kicked at the walls, tore her bed apart, and was able to lift and break heavy furniture that no full grown adult should have been able to move. Items of porcelain and glass tumbled to the floor, their noise as they broke mingled with her screams.

She felt a pair of arms try to restrain her with every ounce of their strength; but it only left bruises on her skin. She knew it wasn't Bruce or Alfred. Her immense strength would have left them completely useless.

It lasted for what seemed like hours. And after the screams and the shattering of glass had finally subsided, there was no sound in the room except for their heavy breathing. Jareth had collapsed into a chair and flung back his head back. Sarah lay on her stomach, her cheek to the floor. The aftermath of her violent outburst was scattered throughout the room. Furniture had been knocked to the floor and Sarah could feel the hard pulse of the bruises beginning to form on her body. Her entire body ached – she was completely exhausted, barely finding the energy to breathe.

Jareth sighed. "Control, Sarah," he said. "You must learn to control this."

"I was poisoned!"

"You still must learn to overcome."

Sarah clutched her stomach, feeling her blood beginning to boil again. She winced in pain, as her stomach turned and she felt another onslaught of hate and anger building up to an almost explosive pitch. Sarah flinched again, and took a deep breath. And another, and another, focusing on her lungs as if they were the only things that existed. She expanded her lungs with air, cleared her mind, and focused on her breath until her body completely relaxed. Her last breath ended with a shudder.

Sarah moaned again as she turned to her side and pushed herself from the floor. She walked on shaky legs to the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, and fell against the sink. She wet her hands and splashed water on her face one last time before taking a deep breath. Looking at the large circular mirror that hung on the wall of the wash room, she peered at her flushed face. She hardly recognized herself from a few days ago. Her face looked truly haunted, almost defeated. She saw a woman tormented and tested to her limits. Grabbing the sides of the sink, she stared up at her reflection. She wanted to smash it.

Jareth appeared at her side and gently pried her hands away from the sink. Sarah closed her eyes from her reflection and pulled away from the feel of leather on her hands. She couldn't seem to stand it just now; it pricked her skin like thousands of tiny needles.

Jareth watched her as she started to back away. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were beginning to turn white. Her nails dug in deeper into the palms of her hands as she willed herself to remain in control. She stepped back again and shakily swiped at the few tears that streamed silently down her cheeks. But something wet remained on her face. She turned again toward the mirror and found blood on her cheeks. She looked down at her hands and was shocked by the sight of more blood trickling down from her hands. She did not realize how hard she had been digging her fingernails into her skin. But on closer inspection, she noticed that more blood began to trickle down her hands and wrists, far more than usual. Her body began to shake again, this time from fear. She cried out and looked to Jareth.

Jareth stepped closer, concern on his face when he couldn't see what was wrong. She held her bloody hands up to him, imploring; but he shook his head, he couldn't see what was troubling her. He tried to take her hands again but she jerked them away with a cry.

Sarah felt a chill of terror crawl up her spine. Her throat was dry, she felt feverish and ill. Waves of dizziness washed over her until her head began to throb. She tried to talk but her tongue felt large and heavy, all she could manage was a mumble. Jareth touched his hand to her forehead and could tell she was burning with a fever. Her eyes were unfocused and glazed, her breath coming in jagged rasps. He tried to heal her but his magic was ineffective.

Sweat began to bead her forehead, her body was trembling from the growing fever, all her joints ached, and her throat was so sore, she could barely speak. Her skin was on fire and he had nothing more that he could do to help her. Whatever it was that was infecting her was no ordinary infection.

She knelt down and fell over onto the floor. Jareth knelt down with her, holding her perhaps too tightly out of fear.

Sarah's body started to still itself as she heard whispered words in her head, their deep voices calming her as she struggled to cling to her surroundings. She could feel their presence adding strength to her effort to hang on, to not give in to the call of letting go, of letting it all end. A tear escaped the side of her eye as she moaned again softly.

Jareth could feel her weakening from the mental battle that was being raged from within her. He could feel her heart racing beneath his touch. He moved his hand to touch the side of her cheek tenderly and she didn't flinch away, which worried him even more. He watched as her eyes closed, her face leaning into his hand.

Right then he decided to do something he had never done before with her. He would see into her mind. He had invaded her dreams more than once before, but seeing what she could see in her mind's eye was something he had never done. If he wanted to manipulate someone, which he had done with her before, then the challenge was that much greater when the opponent was worthy. Sarah was more than a worthy opponent, and that leant a certain amount of respect.

Jareth focused in on Sarah's eyes and leaned forward slightly, opening his mind to hers. But nothing prepared him for what he saw.

The scene filled with smoke as the screams of hundreds of voices filled his mind. Jareth's eyes shot open in horror, stunned as he felt her fear; sharp yet dull, like an old razor, cut into her. The smoke cleared and before him stood a black demon with huge horns and leathery wings, eyes glowing red against smooth black skin, with an enormously muscular, well-defined chest and abdomen. He exulted in his power, looming over the whole scene. Everything in the demon's path was crushed to ashes as he moved closer. Flames flared at his nostrils, and when he roared, it came thundering out of a cavern-mouth. It seemed for a moment that the whole world had been swallowed by the creature and had turned into the maw of Hell. The pain, her fear, was burning too great; it felt like he was being scalded by fire.

Jareth pulled away. But before he opened his eyes, he saw himself dressed in white standing in a field of green, the bright sunlight reflecting off his pale skin. He was taken aback by this image. This was something he clearly didn't remember, yet it was familiar to him, like a forgotten dream. Was this what Sarah saw when she was locked away from his reach? Was this something she imagined to cope with the pain and torture, or something more?

Jareth retreated from the image completely. "Sarah…" he rasped. He glued his dark eyes on hers, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. There was nothing. Inert green orbs stared ignorantly at the ceiling. She was in complete shock.

Jareth lifted himself to his knees and brought her up with him. "Look at me, Sarah." It was a demand. "Look at me!"

No response. Her eyes registered pain for a fraction of a second and she nearly raised an arm to strike back as emerald-gold made contact with mis-matched pupils. Then it was gone again, only an obstinate emptiness was there to replace it.

"Yes, fight back." His hand reached out and grabbed her chin, and he locked her eyes with his own. "Fight. Back. Sarah."

When she opened her mouth, her voice was rough and quiet with ill-use. "Jareth..."

He leaned into her. "I'm here, Sarah."

Sarah's body suddenly went limp, as if the fog in her mind had somewhat dissipated. The fever suddenly withdrew, and her temperature returned to normal, but her body was still shaking. She reached up and clung to Jareth, her eyes filling with tears again as she raised them to meet his. Her look was deliberate, she knew that he had only caught a glimpse of what she was seeing in her mind, and she allowed it. He returned her gaze and stilled himself, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

Gently, he pulled her to him against his chest and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, engulfing her in his embrace. The shame and guilt Sarah had felt moments before seemed to be transferred to him. He should have been there when she was taken, he should have tried harder to find her, he should be done with the shadows he had allowed into his existence. Look where it had led the only human he had turned the world, his world, upside down for. He only wanted to bring himself back into her world, but his obsession had turned into a pain-filled nightmare for her, and he was to blame for it.

His arms tightened around her as he kissed her eyebrow, then her cheek, and then her hair as if to make certain she was alive. Sarah sighed and fell limply against him, listening to his rapid heartbeat. She laced her fingers with his and clasped his hand to hers. They clung to each other until Jareth pulled away, cupping a hand under her chin and tilted her face to him, his breath leaving a soft tingling sensation on her skin.

"Do you know why you were never to identify Batman? You were more than capable of it."

Sarah's mind may have become clear again, but she was on the verge of falling into a deep sleep, she was absolutely exhausted. She only managed to shake her head.

"I hid him from your sight. I hid the truth from you."

"Why?" she asked, closing her eyes, still clinging to him.

"I knew that you would have become fascinated by him; but in another way entirely, nothing like the last one. As Bruce he has everything this world could give him, except for a family, and that made you pity him. But as Batman there is a darkness in him that drew you in; a hidden side that you humans are so compelled to seek out. In so few words, he is me."

Sarah shook her head. "No… He's crazy… insane…"

Jareth's hand tangled through her hair as he watched her closely, she was starting to drift into a deep sleep that he was casting for her. "He's not," he said. "Batman doesn't fit any psychological pathology, at best he's someone suffering from post traumatic stress disorder mixed with a little OCD with a sprinkling of a hero complex and fetishes for dressing up as a bat."

Sarah briefly opened her eyes, and they flicked over Jareth's high, arched brows that complemented his sharp cheekbones so perfectly. She reached out and touched the ends of his long, blonde hair with her fingertips. "Fetish…"

He bent down, swung her up into his arms effortlessly and carried her to the bed. On the brink of mental exhaustion, Sarah let herself fall into Jareth's arms and wilted over into the bed like a rag doll.

She sighed as her head dropped onto the pillow and her eyes finally closed into sleep when Jareth's voice whispered in her ear. "I shall find a way to make things right… for you and me."

* * *

Standing at the entrance to Bruce's room, Jareth watched the way his hand and wrist glided effortlessly through the air, and the turn and spin of the crystal ball as it passed from one slender finger to the next. The movement of the ball back and forth was like pushing a crib for a child, ensuring that for once, everyone inside was sleeping soundly. Jareth watched Bruce sleep in his King-sized bed, breathing deeply and unaware of any physical or mental pain in this state.

He narrowed his eyes, his hand movements becoming faster as he studied his sleeping form. It took a strong person to do what Bruce did. Jareth had greatly underestimated this man; so different from all the other humans; someone who faced tragedy and chose to rise above it all. He had an extraordinary capacity for self-discipline, and used it not only to improve himself, but the world. _That_ made him a hero. But he was as complex as he was contradictory. Jareth smiled, a bit cynically. They were more alike than he would have cared to admit.

He shifted his weight as he added another crystal in his palm.

But Bruce was also so like a human. In that they all yearned for love and acceptance for who they truly were, even if they were monsters. But they were not transparent beings; they needed masks to protect themselves. In Jareth's honest opinion, humanity had been hiding behind masks since the Garden of Eden, afraid of their emotional nakedness, so they hid themselves instead. But of course, wasn't that the point of their masks anyway? To hide what was ugly and painful within them and allow them to play a more desirable role to find acceptance? Ah, but that was a desire that went both ways; the desire to instill fear and for people to accept it as frightening, and the desire to blend with the rest of the revelers that played through the masque of their short lives.

Another crystal orb appeared, and the carousel was complete. The image of himself all in white appeared in the orbs. This was what he had seen in Sarah's mind. There was a shaft of rich sunlight that illuminated all of the orbs. It was maddening looking at himself, at a memory he did not remember, but it _was_ familiar to him. Why? He hadn't immersed himself in that kind of sunlight in years and he certainly did not wear such a plain, yet striking white as that. He did not even have the glamour that the Fae were accustomed to wearing, his mask as it were.

Jareth suddenly dropped the carousel of crystal balls; and with it his image. They all disappeared before they hit the floor.

He lived behind a mask too, he knew he did. He was no better than any human who had to cover their deepest hurts and darkest thoughts. For someone to pull the mask off and reveal what was underneath, is a painful experience. For him as a Fae, it was near impossible. Yet it still took great courage to remove the mask and reveal your true self to another person. Sadly, human nature was cruel and superficial, and perhaps it took a divine nature to love and accept another unconditionally.

Could Sarah love him as he truly was? He was a King of goblins that were once impish and eerie, but now sinister and malicious. How could Sarah, who still saw him as a prince in white, ever love him as a King of shadows?

Jareth sighed heavily, his shoulders nearly sagging. A weight was beginning to burn in his chest. No human had ever left the Underground completely. For Sarah it was more so, because she carried the curse of his obsession.

Jareth looked at Bruce again before fading away. "Sleep well," he said, "prince of Gotham."

* * *

**AN: **I think some of you may recognize a familiar scene. Also, I couldn't get the scene of Darth Vader collapsing and dying from 'Jedi' out of my head. I figured I would try to use it here. Only a few months til the next movie!

Shalom y Amor


	36. Let Her Sleep

The nightmares soon returned, along with the hallucinations. Sarah would close her bedroom door and put her head under the blankets, and there she would remain for hours at a time, not trembling, but staying absolutely still, attempting to remain in control. At times she thought she heard distant, otherworldly moans, and she would want to fall prey to uncontrollable fits of terror, shouting for someone - Bruce, Alfred, Jareth… but she remained still. That, however, didn't mean she wasn't terrified.

With the first rays of sunlight, Sarah would regain some sense and control of her nerves. She thought that her nighttime anxiety was the fruit of her fear-induced time in the damp bowels of the city. This thought would remain in her head and she accepted it, until darkness began to fall again and the cycle of dread resumed. But she remained stoic, focusing on controlling her fear, and pushing it figuratively under the rug until it disappeared completely. She managed to sleep sometimes, but only for minutes at a time. Something always kept her awake – a strange creak or small, dark shadows that passed through the dark corners. Sarah had clung to the thought that they may have been goblins, or they may have been her friends. Either way, she had to dismiss the thought that these shadows were out to harm her; otherwise, she would lose all control again.

Until three nights after Bruce came back to the penthouse, near the brink of mental and physical exhaustion. Sarah lay in her bed, the night moving slowly, as it always did. She began to drift into a heavy sleep; so heavy that she began to feel suffocated. She suddenly didn't want to be in this dream state and attempted to wake herself up again. But this time she could not move and to her horror, found little control over her breathing. She felt like something was sitting on her chest, and she could not move to push it off. In this state, she began to see images of dark figures standing beside her, she heard strange choking noises; disembodied voices that were either laughing or crying – she couldn't tell which.

The weight on her chest became heavier as if it were pressing down on her deliberately. Her eyes moved up heavily, and she was able to see a tiny figure, no larger than a child, sitting on her chest. The paralysis suddenly carried an acute sense of danger. This may have been a nightmare that she wouldn't be able to wake from. Several seconds turned into minutes; but it seemed like hours.

Her heart beat rapidly as she felt her body began to shake and sweat from fear. The ghostly figures were coming closer. She felt nauseous when they knelt beside her; and her body became completely numb when they touched her and held her down with the little shadow person still sitting on top of her.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to move, breathe, anything. The pain and the fear reared up through her very soul as she found herself powerless to free herself and unable to fight back. Her head swam from the weight on her chest and her breath was stolen from her mouth when a cold, slithery voice whispered against her ear.

"Crane is coming…"

"No…" Sarah moved her lips to just a whisper.

She jerked upward fully awake and free of their grasp. She sat, gasping for air and clutching her throat as the shock of the sudden blackness, of her paralysis dissolved.

* * *

Bruce stood still, surveying the landscape of his manor that had remained in his lineage for generations, or what was left of it. It was all melted ruin and rubble now.

He stood before a dark, rocky mouth. Through this passage, the cave was seen as sweating granite, a shifting world of shadow. Bruce stepped inside and went deeper into the darkness. The walls around him were undulating, as if covered in water. But it was the restless shrugging of thousands of bats. Bruce felt his heart speed up, but he pressed on, sweat beading on his face. Ahead, a diffusion of moonlight illuminated a curving rock chamber, bats bringing the walls to life. He moved into the moonlight and looked up into a narrow, stone chute. This was the fall he took as a child. It was here he first encountered the bats, thousands of them swarming all over, attacking him.

Suddenly, in the darkness ahead, a dark shape moved, head rising, slits opening to reveal two blood red eyes. A giant monarch bat spread its huge wings, and rising, airborne, it rushed toward him. The screech of this fierce monster filled the whole cave and in response, roused the bats from their resting place. The horde of squealing, chittering bats filled the air like a black cloud, hundreds of them, taking flight in blind uncomprehending fury. It was a screeching swarm of hideous, black-winged creatures. All of this was Bruce's nightmare – to him it was the very picture of imagined evil, made live.

He was terrified, he wanted to run and hide from the terror that surrounded him, from this demon he couldn't tear his eyes from. The enormous bat's flapping wings beat like drums, closing fast. But Bruce decided to hold his ground, resolved. He faced the monster, screeching towards him, glistening fangs barely inches from his face. But then something remarkable happened. The bat held its position, stared into Bruce's eyes, and spread its wings wide. Bruce then raised his arms, a living mirror. The two faced each other, man and bat, a moment of communion. In the moonlight on the wall, their shadows began to blend, to merge, becoming one until his world flared into a blinding white.

From the mouth of the inner cave, a sudden screaming din of bats exploded into the cave, a shooting column of life, and there, from within, stepped a man in black armor with the mask of his most feared nightmare…

* * *

Bruce started awake. He could still hear the shrill cry of bats in his ears, and the smell of the dank cave that had once been the foundations of his family home. He gazed out the window, towards the East where beyond the stark power of Gotham, the Wayne manor was being rebuilt; though it would be a while yet.

He threw off the sheets and went to the window, his heart racing and his chest rising and falling dramatically. He was panicked and confused, but not about his dream. This dream had only given him the confidence he needed after Sarah had shaken him to his core. Very few people had, yet very few people could see into a broken soul.

He looked down at the short stack of papers Alfred had left for him last night. Alexandra was starting to embezzle money from the Martha Wayne foundation. On further inspection, it seemed a one way ticket had been bought for herself under a false name; she was going to run with his money and money from Maroni. He would have let this go and dealt with it as Bruce Wayne, but he was determined to go to the theater as Batman for another reason entirely. He had to go alone, and he was terrified.

He and Sarah had not seen each other since his return, they purposely avoided each other, and as such he never knew what he had seen and what she had defied so openly. Had he been a boy again, whatever he saw would have plagued his nightmares day and night. Whatever he was fearing, whatever he had seen, was there at the theater. He knew it was.

When the theater was initially ready to be built and began construction, he had stayed away entirely. His parents had been killed outside of a theater and this new one the city had approved of was a decadent monstrosity built on their money. It felt like a stab to him; a cruel joke every time something new was added. But by confronting it at its core, its nucleus, he would maybe find an answer to Crane. Bruce was convinced that this being that he knew to be hiding there was a part of something from his past that made him who he was today.

But this was also where Sarah came from. Like a strange, heady siren rising from her lake. Innocent and fragile, but with the eyes of a sorceress; with her secrets hidden just behind her shoulders - like translucent wings.

And if there was one thing that Bruce Wayne had learned in all his years as an individual, it was that nothing was as it seemed. He was living proof of that. Batman was a dark enemy to fear, but it was driven by Bruce's inherent humanity. Batman, for all its benefits and for all of the time Bruce devoted to it, was ultimately a tool for Bruce Wayne's efforts to make the world better.

He wanted to smile at this, but his nerves still shook him. A soft knock at his door made him flinch but he quickly steeled himself.

"Sir," Alfred walked in and wasn't surprised to see Bruce out of bed. "Sir, the wires you installed at Maroni's penthouse, he's ordered his men to the theater."

"Alexandra."

"I believe so, sir."

Bruce paused and looked down at his cowl that was waiting to be donned. "Something wants me to go there."

* * *

Wide awake from her sleep paralysis, Sarah rose from her bed and left her room. It was dark in the penthouse living room except for the moonlight through the curtains. Sarah moved across the floor, the pale light catching her white nightshirt. When a shadow moved across from her, she stopped, but at the doors that led to the balcony stood a familiar silhouette. Batman shoved his fist into a gauntlet, buckled his utility belt on firmly, and finally slid the cowl over his head.

"Where are you going?"

Batman turned calmly and seeming resigned, studied Sarah's face, almost unsettled at the accusation he found there, at the reflection of himself he saw in her green eyes that were shimmering in the moonlight. The gentle smile that he had once been so taken with had faded over time into a somber stare, piercing and powerfully dark.

"They're coming for her," he said. "At the theater."

She knew who it was; it had been obvious since the beginning. Alexandra.

"And you're going by yourself?" she asked, anxious. "Tell the police."

"They'll only bring a massacre. I trust only one man on that force and even he can't keep them all in line."

Her voice was as dark and as deep as a black lake. "Don't go."

"If I don't go then who would I be?"

"Your wounds…" she broke off, her throat closing, "they're not healed... and there are too many of them."

He moved closer to her, his figure stirring with the shadows alongside him. "Maybe there is a place for me in this world just as I am. Light cannot exist without darkness. Each has a purpose, and if there's a purpose to my darkness maybe it's to bring some balance to the world. It _would_ be a better place without people like them."

Batman closed the distance between them, noting that she was still dressed in only her nightshirt, the top of it falling slightly off her shoulder as Sarah looked fiercely at him, her eyes glowing. "I struggle with this everyday," he said. "And maybe by doing some good I can be the hero and not the vigilante."

Sarah came right up against him. "You are Bruce," she affirmed. "You always have been."

He pulled away from her and marched toward the wide balcony doors. "Then as Bruce I just use all of this as a tool to accomplish what I need to do. I am a seeker of justice in this world I'm still fighting to understand." He pulled the doors open wide. "This is how I deal with my rage and vengeance, Sarah, by becoming a creature of night." He scaled the balcony ledge and stood above her, his cape billowing in the wind like a black flag. "I don't know what I am except that there are two, and there always will be. And right now, I'm Batman."

He lifted his arms, the cape splitting down the center, and went wide to familiar, black wings. Sarah's eyes went wide. He was truly no longer Bruce; he had changed into his other half, the dark side of his plagued soul.

Batman dove from the balcony, a shadow in the dead of night.

Sarah stared at the space he had once stood, now replaced with the dazzling city skyline. It was amazing how from here Gotham looked like a cosmopolitan jewel laid out for the world to see. But if one took a closer look, you could see the ever expanding cracks and flaws that were threatening to break apart.

The cracks were there; deep inside, but sooner or later she wouldn't be able to control it anymore. She had to tell Bruce everything. The secret had been hidden for too long. Maybe once she revealed everything she would be whole again. She wouldn't have to hide anything from Bruce anymore.

But first she had to help him anyway she knew how. She had strength on her side now, but how would that last against dozens of trained hit men? She knew of only one way to try and save Bruce. She must tell Jareth she loved him. No matter the consequences.

To leave Bruce would be painful because she finally began to appreciate what he did for her, and besides Alfred, she understood why he became Batman. In a way, she found herself loving him, her shadow side, the side that was hard to accept and bring to the light that she found with Superman.

_"No one is ever born bad. We choose if we want to be good or bad. And it is that choice that determines our lives."_

Sarah changed into dark clothes to help her blend in, and ran to the elevator, but of course it was locked. Only Alfred and Bruce knew the code. She went to the door to the set of emergency stairs. This was locked too but Sarah only had to push hard enough. The padlock broke off the hinge and was left in her wake. She ran down the stairs, grasping the handrail as she did so. She raced down a set of stairs, and then another and another, looking down briefly through her mess of black hair. It was nearly forty flights down, but it didn't matter how much farther she had to go, she had made her choice and was sticking by it. What she was worried about was getting to the theater without getting caught. She couldn't wait for a taxi; she would have to make a run for it through the alleys and side streets. She wouldn't dare stop for a breath or to rest, she kept running down the long, winding cement stairs; and every floor she reached that wasn't the first just kept her going.

She finally stopped and looked down before dropping another floor. She could see the double doors that led to the lobby. She would have to act as nonchalant as possible; the last thing she wanted was to make a scene. She took a deep breath and continued down the stairs that seemed as if they would never end.

Her whole body was damp and numb from the run down, but her mind was alert when she finally took that last step. She pushed the door open and walked out as calmly as she could. She was completely out of breath, but she held herself gracefully as she walked across the lobby and avoided all the curious stares of the staff and some residents. And as soon as she opened the front doors she broke out into a run.

She pressed forward and everything surrounding her, the pavement, the traffic, people; were nothing but a blur as she raced on. Her heart beat fiercely as she pushed herself further, no thoughts were made as her instincts drove her onward, every sound registered within her hearing. She could hear the street debris and gravel as it was crushed beneath her weight, the inhabitants of the streets watching her run, all thinking that she was just as mad as they were. Dodging pedestrians, streetlights, and newspaper kiosks; Sarah fought her way through the streets, fearing what may follow her.

* * *

"Boss," he spoke calmly into his cell phone. "She's out, she's running."

Yuri's voice on the other end. "Where is she going?"

"Looks like the theater."

"Follow her. We will be there in twenty minutes."

* * *

A picture wavered on the sphere's surface like water rippling in a breeze. Jareth studied it closely. It was Sarah sleeping soundly in her bedroom. She didn't toss or turn in her sleep, her breathing was normal, her mouth open slightly.

Disquieted, Jareth raked his gaze over his dark watchers. "She sleeps."

The goblins murmured loudly, their voices rising into a high-pitched moan. "Ssshe sssleepsss well without you, my Lord. Ssshe hasss overcome her fearsss."

Jareth's eyes glittered dangerously as he turned to back to orb. "And in such little time." The creatures buzzed among themselves. Looking over Sarah's image, Jareth continued, "She's always been one to rise above… but why does she not dream? Her dreams are rarely empty."

The goblins backed away, seeping further into their realm of darkness. Jareth watched them go, uneasy. Then turned back towards Sarah sleeping deep inside the crystal.

* * *

It rested magnificently in the glittering, new district of Gotham; but something seemed to take the theater in a dark, menacing hold. It stared down at her like an old ruined king; and throughout the street, a grotesque, towering monstrosity, that seemed to brood ominously over the landscape. Fog hung thick over the pavement and sidewalk, unusual for Gotham at this time of year. A thick silence dominated and was only dared to be broken by the random car horn or rumble of an overhead train.

Sarah looked up at the theater that was now deserted of all actors and audience; just barely locked up for the night, freshly dusted and cleaned inside and out. She crept up the stairs as quietly as she could until she halted in front of the pair of grand doors that stood at least twenty feet tall. Raising her eyes up along the doors, she had a brief flash of déjà vu_…_

"_Knock and the door will open…"_

She pushed on the doors and they opened slowly, revealing its inner world. It was in pristine condition, every minute detail sparkling under the silver, moonlit glow. Majestic columns stretched skyward and the expansive marble floor was inlaid with veins of pure gold. It was so dark and Gothic and disgustingly decadent in this almost unnatural light. The grand foyer, thick, luscious in its grandeur, quickly came into view.

Sarah quieted her breathing and tiptoed through the foyer, she felt sure that any sound she made would have reverberated through this massive space. She knew that people were already here, and she could feel her heart pounding within her ears as she started to move cautiously deeper within the halls. She looked at both ends of the hallway but no one was roaming.

Two Greek statues draped in their marble garments flanked the entrance to the auditorium, and above their heads hung a dripping, crystal chandelier. Corinthian columns dotted the walls of the auditorium landing making the space stretch higher than it seemed. It was eerily quiet here, a deafening silence that made one's skin crawl in fear. Sarah half expected to wake up in her bed safe and sound, this scene before her being only a nightmare but she knew that that was certainly not the case.

Alexandra may have been in her manager's office, but the plan was to find Jareth. She knew this theater well, but not as well as him. There could have been her secret room, but wasn't there a cave here too? He had once taken her there, but where was it exactly? And how could she get there? What if she ran into a group of armed men?

She stuck closer to the walls that were decorated with richly paneled frescos and stayed clear of the moonlight seeping through the windows. She kept looking over her shoulder and stopped at every cross hallway she had come to, peering down in each direction nervously. Before Sarah came to a wide corner, she heard deep voices and she pulled herself up against the wall. Slowly, she twisted her head around the corner and whipped it back around.

It was hard to get a look at the rotunda; the hallways were too dimly lit. But from what Sarah could see, there were five men circled around a smaller, leaner Alexandra. There was a mix of garbled voices, too low for even Sarah's ears. But they became louder and more insistent, until she could clearly hear Alexandra pleading.

"Listen to me," said Alexandra, "I have the money right here. I was going to give it all to Maroni tonight."

A loud thud followed by a man's voice. "You're bag is still packed for a long trip."

"I was leaving! But not after I delivered the money!"

"Maroni doesn't trust you anymore."

"I can still give you Sarah Williams, I know where she is! I know where she's hiding!"

The skylight overhead exploded, and in a rain of glass, Batman flew in, his cape blowing out in black wings as he descended. He landed to the floor with such force he broke the marble stone beneath him.

Alexandra screamed and Sarah saw her run for her life, but no one followed her. Sarah twisted around the corner and watched Batman smash a thug's head into the side of a marble pillar and knock another to his knees with a spinning back kick. He was blindingly-quick, lethal, and animal-like. She stood frozen, morbidly fascinated at how deadly Bruce could really be.

But one man stayed well out of range from Batman. His back was to Sarah but she could see him reach into both sides of his holster and pull out two guns, ready to aim at Batman.

Sarah immediately rushed around the corner, grabbed a large candelabrum standing on a marble pedestal, and knocked the man hard on the back of the head. He went down immediately, his guns dropping next to him.

Batman whipped around, and his body tensed when he recognized who stood before him. "You!" he hissed.

Sarah tossed her hair away from her face and set the candelabrum down, it should have weighed a ton, but to her it felt like a plastic toy. "You're welcome."

Batman marched toward her, seething at her defiance, at her stupidity. Sarah stared back; openly aware of her decision and the reprimand she would receive. But he didn't say anything. He took her hand as he sped past her and she willingly followed behind.

They both ran in a flurry of black down the moonlit corridors, heading in the direction Alexandra had escaped to, which was back toward the auditorium landing. Sarah could see the shadows moving beside her as she ran, and with them came the voices, slithering up her spine calling her name, following them down the dark hallways. Until the shadows turned into the silhouettes of men armed with guns and knives. Batman shoved Sarah out of the way as a bullet flew through the air, barely missing her arm. Batman threw a batarang and it snapped the gun out of the thug's hand.

Sarah instinctively ran up the grand staircase, but a two-toned man leapt forward, grabbed her arm, and in a panic, Sarah dropped to her knees. She gave a mighty kick and the thug toppled backwards down the stairs.

Batman, still at the bottom of the stairs, raised his grapple gun to another man aiming his rifle at him, and within an instant the bat grapple smashed into the man's hands, the rifle yanked away. Batman yanked the man along the floor using his grapple gun, taking down another thug next to him. He leapt for another as shots shattered the white marble all around them. He took them all out easily and looked up to see Sarah nearing the top of the stairs, but with three thugs following her. These men were different from Maroni's thugs; he recognized several of Yuri's burly, Russian men right away. He shot his grapnel up to the high ceiling and it sent him flying over the flight of the grand staircase.

Sarah moved behind Batman as he fell from the air and skid to the floor. She turned to see him knock down a man with a spinning back kick, another with a flying back-fist, and he spun and delivered a powerful roundhouse clocking the third in the head and sent him backwards down the stairs. Sarah turned and stepped closer to Batman, another group of men were waiting for them at the landing. Batman was right. There was going to be a massacre if the police came. There were too many, Maroni's and Yuri's men, she prayed that Crane's men would not show; but that was wishful thinking if the Russians were here.

Batman rushed ahead of her and heaved a large man over the railing of the staircase. The thugs closed in and rushed for Batman, swinging a chain at his head. Batman's hand shot out fast, grabbing the chain. He punched the thug in the chin and whipped the chain into the gut of another thug.

One man began to charge Sarah. Her adrenaline had been pumping so heavily in her blood that she had no qualms about striking her attacker hard across the cheek, sending him falling unconsciously to the already blood tainted ground. Sarah's eyes opened wide; she knew right then that she would never get used to this. Strong arms came around her and pulled her away toward the auditorium doors.

Batman pushed one door open slightly and they snuck inside like two black cats. They silently yet quickly hurried down the side aisles. Sarah looked up to the cathedral-like ceiling and multi-level balconies every now and again, hoping to catch a flash of white or even a shadow. They stopped at the edge of the stage; Batman still alert, his muscles tense, put a restraining hand on her arm. He looked overhead, and saw a catwalk spanning the width of the stage three stories up.

Sarah looked up too, but at the stage. "_How funny,"_ she thought rather cynically, _"this is where it all started. Everything started here when I was fifteen, and it will end here."_ She looked over at the front row of seats, sitting so patiently for their guests. _"This is where I saw Bruce for the first time…"_

Batman shot his grapnel upward and lassoed a beam overhead. Sarah looked up again and without a word, wrapped her arms around his neck. They were pulled upward, shooting into the air until they were set firmly on the high platform of the catwalk. Batman peered down and examined the length of the catwalk. Unsatisfied, he turned and peered down the dark corridor behind them. He spotted the high, twisting staircase that led toward the rooftop. He grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her forward. Batman seemed both desperate and determined to get Sarah out alive now.

Sarah realized that he was going to sneak her out through the rooftop, but whether he would go with her didn't seem like an option for him.

"Stop!" she hissed, jerking him back.

Batman did stop, but he looked back and scowled at her. He clearly didn't like having his physical strength surpassed by a stubborn, young woman.

"In here," Sarah pulled him into an empty alcove where the stagehands would wait for their cues. Batman stayed at the opening of the large niche and listened intently to what he could only hear. Sarah stood against the wall, and with trembling lips she finally whispered, "There's a hidden closet in my dressing room. I can hide in there…"

"You wouldn't have to hide if you stayed away!" Batman growled. "Now we're compromised."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I thought I could get here before they did."

"Why are you here? Besides the obvious, you don't really know what you're doing."

"Yes I do!" She stepped away from the wall. "I know someone who can help you. He's here, in the theater…"

Batman breathed deeply through his teeth and turned away, his face suddenly deepening into a scowl. He eyed the corner with unease, there was a presence waiting on the other side. When Batman looked to the dark corner of the upper landing, Sarah followed his gaze, and shuddered. Yuri silently appeared from the shadows, a towering, black silhouette. Hand slowly moving to the hilt of his new katana, he purposely stepped forward, and silently drew out his blade.

Sarah began to back away slowly, but when Yuri saw her move, he sheathed the katana and leapt forward. A blur of solid black suddenly filled Sarah's vision as Batman hurled his body against Yuri. He was now nothing more than dark mass and bottled fury.

Batman caught Yuri as he lunged forward, his hands digging into his shoulders but not enough to draw blood. Knocked to the ground he held Yuri at bay, but he wasn't quick enough to stop Yuri from drawing his long katana completely from the hilt. The blade sliced through the air in a downward swoop, a loud clank was heard in return as scallops met with metal. Pushing down on his katana, Yuri watched with great satisfaction when it looked like Batman was struggling to keep the blade from coming down on him.

Batman clenched his fist and, with a gesture almost too quick to see, stepped back and punched Yuri in the chest. Yuri was flung back but he managed to kick Batman under the knees and he promptly fell to the ground. Yuri raised his blade over the dazed Batman and brought it down fast. Batman rolled clear, the blade wedging into the floor. It was all the time Batman needed. He back-flipped erect and delivered a flying front kick to Yuri hard in the head. Yuri was knocked against the wall and toppled to the ground. Batman took this opportunity to throw the katana over the edge, finally out of reach.

Batman turned and shoved Sarah towards the stairwell door that led down, he wouldn't risk bringing her to the roof now. Sarah bolted and smashed through the door just a second before the door swung wide open with Batman jammed against the wall by Yuri.

Sarah took off running down the stairs and briefly looked up in time to see Batman flipped over the banister, landing with a thud on the stairs right beside her. Yuri leapt over the railing as Sarah ran, bounding down the stairs, taking two at a time. She glanced up again to see both men tumble down the stairs, flailing at each other as Sarah kept running down.

Sarah rounded the last railing and flung herself at the exit door, but it wouldn't move. Sarah slammed herself against the door over and over again in a blind, unthinking panic. It barely moved, something was blocking it from the outside.

Suddenly Batman and Yuri came crashing down almost on top of her, fighting for their lives. Batman flipped over and grabbed Yuri from behind in a neck lock. Yuri shoved Batman backward, knocking Batman breathless, but he never lost his hold. They tripped and fell in a heap facing upward. It was here Sarah saw something glimmer from Yuri's chest; a pure, white flicker of light. She recognized it and immediately dropped to her knees at Yuri's side, completely unafraid of being this close to him now.

She reached out and ripped her diamond away from Yuri's chest, holding it up to his face. "This is mine," she hissed. She then punched him square in the face and managed to knock him out for just a moment.

Sarah took a deep breath, relieved and comforted to have her diamond with her again. She straightened and a smile creased her mouth. "See?" she said, holding up her diamond, "I am good for something."

Batman began to bind and gag Yuri while he was still in a stupor. Sarah stuffed her diamond tight into her pocket, and watched Batman drag Yuri to a small corner. "I think something's blocking the door," she said, "but there shouldn't be anything there."

Batman finished stuffing Yuri away and went to the exit door. They both pushed hard against it, but still nothing.

"They're trapping us in," he said. "They must have this whole auditorium surrounded."

Sarah started for a back corner and Batman followed. "There's a small passage back here that we use for quick changes," she said, pushing on a small door. It gave easily and they looked down the passageway. "This can take me to the smaller dressing rooms and I'll be able to hide in there."

Batman started to move down the passageway and Sarah went with him. They ended up exactly where Sarah said they would. Another space with separate rooms used for changing and rehearsing; at the end of it was her own dressing room. It was sparse these days as she rarely made an appearance on the stage now. It was terribly quiet and eerie here.

Both Yuri and Maroni's men would be clashing soon. A part of Sarah thought that they should all just kill each other and be done with it, but they had to be stopped regardless and Batman was the only one who would do that.

Sarah broke the silence. "What are you going to do?"

Batman checked his utility belt for remaining weapons. "What I said I would." Satisfied, he clicked everything back into place and stared hard at her. "You said someone was here who could help me."

She watched him for a long moment. "Yes, I did." She paused again, letting the shock of what she was about to reveal pass; it was time he knew. "You're not crazy, what you saw was real. I've wanted to tell you for so long, even when I only knew you as Bruce. It was him who hid me away from you when I ran away. He was the reason I disappeared that night at Krista's." Her throat started to close when her eyes clouded with tears. "I don't know why he didn't come for me when I was kidnapped." She swallowed and tried to regain control. Batman stood completely still, listening, absorbed at what she was saying. "He's not a ghost, but he haunts me. And you should be as afraid of him as I am."

Batman breathed in through his nostrils, this was exactly who he needed to find, and he needed to face it. He let the truth of Sarah's words roll over him. He became a believer of the supernatural the moment Sarah had levitated in the Church. Nothing could have changed his mind otherwise now.

"Where is he?"

Sarah sighed deeply. "I don't know. He could be anywhere."

Batman looked away and clenched his fists. He seemed to have an inner argument going on inside that troubled mind of his. Until Sarah realized that he had already made the decision to leave her here, and that it wasn't the best option, but it was the only one that was available to him.

Sarah's reached out and flexed her fingers on his shoulder. "Go," she said gently, "I'll try to do what I can, and I will not leave this room."

Batman nodded silently. He started to turn but then he did something completely unexpected and something so unlike what he had done before as Batman. His touch became tender as he opened his hand against her waist and turned to her, leaning closer to her face, and kissed her. It was warm and unhurried, not the passionate, soulful kiss that she would have expected from a knight about to do battle. It was filled with gentleness Sarah knew was within Bruce but didn't think Batman could inherit. She pressed her lips to his in return; forgiving him for his past and eventual transgressions, and asking for his, which he seemed to give willingly in this sustained, quiet exchange.

His eyes stayed on her as he pulled away. He was breathing fast, staring at her like he'd never seen her again. She saw something flash in his eyes, something akin to sadness, but it was gone too quickly to be sure.

"There has to be a hidden doorway," she began looking over the walls of her dressing room, "another passage somewhere…" she looked back again, but Batman was already gone. She stared at the spot he had just been standing a second before. "So we're both good at disappearing, then."

He had locked the door from the inside, but a sense of dread for the coming events that were to come to play filled her. It didn't help that a barrage of startled yells started near the auditorium until it became quiet again.

"Jareth," she whispered finally, "where are you when I need you?" She began searching through the corners of the room, pressing her hands against the walls and hoping to find a slot or hear a click. "Jareth!"

"Jareth?" A high, lilting voice from the darkness asked. "Who is Jareth?"

Sarah backed away, gasping soundlessly with terror. She could feel the freezing burn that accompanied Scarecrow's presence burrow into her skin. She moved back carefully, aware of his haggard form emerging like a skeleton from the grave. His burlap-covered head cocked at the sight of her.

Her heart beat violently as she felt her body began to shake with fear. The shadow figures she had so often hallucinated were in his wake. They rose higher and higher until they nearly towered over her. Her back was pressed against the door and she desperately searched for the knob as the Scarecrow stepped ever closer to her. She could almost see a smile tug at his twitching lips.

"Is Jareth a new friend?"

Sarah stifled a cry, but she found the knob and turned it, flinging herself out before Scarecrow could reach her.

* * *

Jareth's fair brows were drawn together in an expression of acute frustration as he stared into the glowing sphere; inches away from his face. "She has not opened her eyes even once," he breathed, "I must go to her."

The goblins moaned in dissent. "Mussst ssshe alwaysss have you there when it doesss not turn your way?"

"Silence!"

He replied a bit too quickly, a bit too sharp. The goblins inched closer and their yellow eyes glistened piercingly at their King. Jareth met their stare with an icy glare of his own.

"A little bit longer," they whispered. "Jussst a little bit longer. We know you worry for her ssso. But look how ssshe sssleepsss," they began to coalesce around the orb but Jareth flinched his arm back, wary of their nearness. "Ssso peaceful. Let her sssleep jussst a little bit longer…"

* * *

**AN: **I will try TRY to finish this before July 20th =) Thank you, thank you to all reviewers!


	37. Fire and Blood

Sarah didn't hesitate or froze, she ran. Crane immediately followed her as she ran down the long hallways.

BANG!

Sarah recoiled as she heard the remnants of a gilded prop mirror crash to the floor.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Another mirror, a tall statue, anything Crane could get his hands on.

It didn't matter that she had abnormal strength on her side. To Sarah, the sight of Crane sent her into a panic. The voices in her mind rose to an unnerving crescendo as hot fear was triggered deep within her; she forgot everything she thought she could do to protect herself. She frantically ran down one hallway after another. All the while, her heart beat in a furious frenzy, more from fright than from the chase. He followed her back through the corridors that led to the backstage, past the actor's and costume alley, the prop room, and storage. Sarah pulled down equipment used for light and maintenance, sets, anything she could; but Crane easily tossed aside anything that she tried to put in his path.

"I think you need a little more, Sarah! And I won't rush things this time. I'm going to savor every moment of your terror as I slowly destroy you!"

Sarah ran faster until she felt her lungs would burst, and her limbs began to ache, but the murmuring, indiscernible voices were getting higher as Crane came closer. They ran down hallways until Sarah finally rushed into a rehearsal room and tried to barricade the entrance with an old chair, but Crane pushed through effortlessly. On instinct, Sarah threw anything she could get a hold of at him. Crane swatted aside the objects and kept coming towards her until he was able to reach out and grab her throat. She choked, and gave a strangled scream, but kicked him as hard as she could in the shin and Crane was thrown back to the floor, clutching at his leg.

She remembered how she had burned him the last time she touched Crane, but she wouldn't dare get too close to him, especially if it wouldn't work.

Crane rose unsteadily to his knees. Sarah didn't wait any longer; she ran past him again and flung herself from the room. But she didn't want to keep running and eventually run into someone who worked for Crane, it was a wonder she hadn't yet.

Breathless, she hurried into a room that was used for constructing smaller sets. She slammed the door behind her and locked it tight.

When she turned, her mouth dropped, gawking at the sheer magnitude of what had to be every mirror in Gotham standing in front of, beside, over, and under each other. She was again standing before the golden ballroom she had seen once before, the night of the party at Bruce's penthouse. It was just as she remembered, except it seemed to stretch endlessly this time. There was no _click _beneath her feet, the floor didn't start to move in slow circles, and everything remained still as she wandered down the long colonnade. But there were still a million of her reflections walking with her.

She fought the urge to press herself against the mirrors. It was so bright in here, completely the opposite of the darkness of the theater. She was fighting hard to push her fear down. There was absolutely no way anyone could have built even a fraction of this. She was either dreaming or hallucinating this grand ballroom of mirrors.

"Jareth!" The name echoed a million times, but there was no single answer. "Where are you?" she whispered with trembling lips. "Where are you, Jareth?"

She looked furtively about, making certain she wasn't missing a hidden passage or doorway out. But there was nothing. Just an unending enclosed labyrinth of mirrors. It was dizzying to see one abyss after another wherever she walked; she began to stagger with the sheer magnitude of it. She turned a corner, but stopped short by her reflection in a tall cheval glass mirror.

She was standing behind herself; or rather, herself dressed all in black covered with gold glitter. She had to admit that compared to her long sleeve black shirt and her dark jeans, that night of the party she was a sight to see. The image of herself in the black dress wasn't screaming or furious, she was quite pleased at her own reflection, and her expression didn't change when Jareth appeared behind her in a mirror, penetrating the surface, then stepping forth through the glass into the room, clad in black finery.

Sarah turned to face her other self and Jareth, but it was just an array of her own reflection again. She turned back to face the mirror, and they were still there, but Jareth's hands held her other self still and caressed her shoulders. Both Sarah's felt goose bumps run down their arms and bodies. She felt his hands moving slowly over her skin, both their lips parted, as Jareth brushed his lips over her shoulder, and up to the curve of her neck, then gently kiss the skin just underneath her earlobe.

Then it happened just as she remembered it. Jareth turned her other self around fully in his arms and crushed his lips to hers. The other didn't push away or protest, but sank deep into his kiss and melted in his arms.

Sarah choked back a sob and clenched her eyes shut. Damn her pride, goddamn her pride. She had to push him away every time. It had to be her fear of him, and fear of herself, of what she could become if she fell too deep into that unknown void called love.

Her eyes were still shut, but she could feel his hands caressing her skin and increasing her desire even now.

"I will always find you."

Jareth's voice, gentle and light, encircled her and echoed throughout the entire ballroom. Sarah's eyes flew open and saw only her reflection again.

"Sarah," Jareth called out again.

"I'm here," Sarah stepped toward the mirror, "I'm here, Jareth. Where are you?"

His voice came from every corner, every niche. "You must call for me."

She looked around her again, and pressed her hands against the glass, trapped within this mad house of gilded mirrors. "Where are you? I can't find my way out!" Sarah looked back and around her – nothing but a million of her own moving reflections. She turned back to the cheval mirror, and sucked in her breath. There, looking back at her, was Jareth radiant in white gold, shockingly beautiful and blindingly bright. She was transfixed and had to lift her hand to shield her eyes from his light.

"You must call for me," he said again.

She stepped even closer to the mirror. Everything was gold, light, hot. She wanted to close her eyes against it. "Jare-"

Jareth's image suddenly shifted and was replaced by a burlap mask for a face and the Scarecrow's lanky figure. His hand grabbed a fistful of Sarah's hair, and he struck her head hard against the glass. Sarah screamed at the glaring pain that erupted as she was flung to the ground. The sting of the impact on her head and the sudden darkness completely disoriented her. She was shaking so violently from shock that she could barely see Scarecrow standing over her, but she could hear his heartbeat pulsing like muffled thunder.

"How are you doing this?" he said, his hands in the air before him. "You have ingested enough toxins to drive ten men insane!"

Sarah crawled backward slowly, groaning in pain. There was a sharp ringing in her ears and bright spots of light dominated her sight. She screamed when she felt herself lifted off the floor.

"What are you?" Scarecrow asked in her face before grabbing her wrist and neck and throwing her across the room with unrelenting mercy. She screamed again and crashed into a large piece of equipment used for lighting. He grabbed her and hauled her to her feet; grabbing her throat suddenly, lifted her off the floor, and slammed her body up against the wall. "I said, what are you?"

Sarah clawed at his hands, trying to scratch his skin, but when his mask came closer her hands dropped and she desperately reached for anything next to her. Her hand managed to wrap around an old pipe and she struck Scarecrow fiercely on the head.

Scarecrow yelped and staggered backward. Sarah slumped to the ground and grabbed her head in agony, then took several breaths before she stood up from the floor. Her eyes swam over the room; they were fighting to adjust to the darkness and the dull pain that overtook her head. Scarecrow had disappeared and it had become deathly quiet again.

Getting a better look around, Sarah saw that there were rows of mirrors that were going to be used for the set of Cinderella's ballroom. Although there weren't nearly as many, or as clean. Sarah scanned the room and the rows of tall mirrors, unsteady, but Scarecrow was no where to be seen. She took the pipe in her hands and held it like a club in front of her. She stepped forward slowly into the room of prop mirrors.

A hiss was followed by a creak. Sarah whipped around; terrified, every dirty reflection of herself made her jump.

Scarecrow's voice came from no where, and everywhere. "You're fighting back. Good. It can only weaken your resolve. How much more do you think you can take?"

Sarah fought the urge to fall to the floor and cower. It took nearly everything in her to keep moving through the room.

"Does it scare you to know that I have almost defeated you?"

She didn't respond. She needed to find the door to get out and keep her wits about her at the same time. But it was extremely difficult as she was still seeing the world as distorted. She shook her head several times and wiped the small trickle of blood away from her eyes.

"Are you sleeping well at night?" Scarecrow's oily voice seemed to seep from the corners of the room. "Do you have nightmares?"

Sarah wanted to thrash the pipe in front of her, but held it as steady as her shaking hands would allow.

"I can give you something for that."

A few beats. Sarah remained silent, listening intently so as to find where he would be hiding. But all she heard was the pounding of her own heart and blood.

"Why are you still alive?"

But there were so many reflections of herself surrounding her it was nearly impossible to see straight. Her heart beat faster. He was getting closer, but she couldn't see him…

"You gave me quite a shock the last time I saw you. It left me burning for you."

Eyes ablaze with fear, Sarah screamed in horror when something slammed into her and she fell backward with such force her head bounced violently on the ground. She lashed out blindly and swung the pipe, but Scarecrow dodged it, and rushed in to grab her by the neck. She instinctively squirmed in his grasp and punched him in the chest. He fell back for a moment, but then rushed for her again. She rolled up to her knees and bared her teeth as she successfully threw him off of her.

A surge suddenly swept through her. Her senses were in overdrive, her adrenaline pumping when Scarecrow didn't lunge for her, but disappeared again.

Sarah seethed and looked up through her hair, resembling something close to a wild thing. The voices began to close in on her again, and the shadows were creeping out from beneath the mirrors and started reached for her. She flinched backward and wanted so badly to recoil away back into the corner, she wanted to scream for Jareth. But where was he? Where was he now? And where was he when she was trapped in a cell? She was tired of waiting and cowering.

She scanned the scattered circle of mirrors before her, each one holding her own dark reflection. The shadows and voices bled over the surface of the mirrors like syrup. It seemed like they wanted to smother her own images.

Moaning, Sarah rose shakily to her feet, the pipe in her hand, and without another thought, began to smash the mirrors without mercy. Her expression was intense, tortured as the shadows let out a scream that transcended the normal range of audible sound. Sarah screamed with them, but hers was a sound of fury and defiance, and fighting to break free of the chains that bound her to this black madness. With tremendous effort, she chopped, slammed, and smashed every one of Cinderella's mirrors. Shards of glass cascaded down to the floor in rivulets as they screamed, their hideous noise and the sound of glass shattering all around her seemed to last an eternity. Sarah finally stepped back and watched as their forms pulsed with bolts of lightning that came from their syrupy bodies. A suffocating stench filled the air as the evilness suddenly burned into a pile of black ash.

Sarah staggered on her feet, exhausted when the last of the shadows and voices finally disappeared. There was a terrible moment of silence before she felt Scarecrow lunge for her from behind. She wasn't quick enough to escape his grasp and the force of Scarecrow's advance hurled them both shattering through a large pane of clear glass. They crashed into it with terrific impact and both fell on the shard-littered floor. From the incredible force of the blow, Sarah dropped the pipe and it rolled away from her. Scarecrow, his hideous mask still over his face, attempted to crawl on top of her and reach for her throat again.

"Look around you!" he roared in triumph. "These are the broken fragments of your mind! You mind has shattered like glass!

"No!" Sarah screamed back. She rolled up quickly and moved through the excruciating pain of glass cutting into her hands and arms. She clenched her teeth and faster than she thought possible, jumped to her feet, shoved him as hard as she could one last time and ran for the door. She could actually hear the shards of glass scrape against the floor as Scarecrow was flung backward. She cringed at the very sound of it.

Gasping and physically strained, Sarah staggered out into the hallway and ran as far as she could, but she stumbled into the walls and tripped over her own feet several times. Her vision started to dim and the walls started to stretch out in front of her. She couldn't run anymore, she had to hide for good.

She barged inside a smaller dressing room and used the last of her strength to block the door shut with a wooden dresser. She stepped back, watched the door, and held her breath. A pounding came from the end of the hallway followed by deep voices. The hammering came closer and the voices became louder as she pressed herself against the back of the room.

"Jareth," she breathed.

The door was pushed on from the other side.

"Jareth," her voice became a low whisper.

The dresser was starting to move and the door was opening just slightly, enough for an arm to reach through.

"Jareth," she said, louder this time.

Someone had stopped pushing on the door. A bottle then flew into the room, smashed on impact, and an ensuing cloud of petrol and vapour ignited, causing an immediate fireball, instantly filling the room with thick smoke. Sarah fell to her knees and covered her mouth. She scrambled across the floor, which only brought her closer to the door and away from the costumes that could have put out the blaze but were already burning. She pressed herself against the corner as a wave of heat hit her body sharply.

Crane was trying to smoke her out. He was making it her choice – a slow death trapped in this room or a lifetime of torture with him.

"Jareth!" she screamed.

The fireball had quickly turned into a raging fire as the remainder of the fuel was consumed. The smoke that billowed up invaded her lungs even when she breathed through her shirt lifted to cover face. It burned her throat and stung her eyes. Sarah fought hard against coughing, knowing that it would only make it worse, and would burn her lungs, but her chest began to spasm from the strain of holding it in. She finally covered her face with her hands and turned away.

"Sarah…" Scarecrow taunted. "Please come out. Or else your skin will burn and blister, you will sob and scream at the pain. It will be so agonizing you won't find the breath to scream. Open the door, Sarah. I know you can…"

Head dizzy with haze she tried to call Jareth again but her voice was weak and cracking, and she only coughed harder.

"_Jareth…"_ she called in her mind, tears escaping her clenched lids.

* * *

"JARETH!"

The earthquake that accompanied Sarah's scream shook the very foundations of his castle. Jareth stood at attention and stared into his crystal orb; while the horde of goblins hissed and shrunk back, narrowing their yellow eyes. Jareth's grip on the crystal intensified as Sarah's sleeping form turned into one of her choking and convulsing on the floor from a rising fire not far from her.

"Jareth…" her voice echoed from within the orb.

He felt his blood boil and his skin sting. "You tricked me!" he spat in fury.

The goblins chittered uneasily, their pitch rising, rasping. "Never, dear King…" they all denied at once. "We would never lie to our King."

Jareth pushed his fury down and physically winced from the effort. He raised his arm and made ready to transport himself to Sarah. But the goblins hissed at him defiantly, their yellow eyes blazing. As one they continued, insect voices rising to a high-pitched whine. "If you go to her, ssshe will deny you! Ssshe alwaysss will!"

"Silence!"

"We ssspeak truth!" Their voices drowned him out, swarming, as they moved out of the shadows, daring closer to the crystal light. "But even if ssshe doesss not reject you, dear King, it isss too late. Death is waiting to claim her for his own."

Jareth tensed. His power was weak; he had used up much of his own magic and relied on the dark magic of these goblins for too long. His Labyrinth was close to ruins, the foundations of the Goblin City were beginning to show, and his castle had become overgrown with old vines and broken windows.

"I am your King," he snarled the words, resisting the urge to obliterate everything in his sight then and there. But he needed to save his strength.

The Goblin King then threw his cloak upward in one deft motion, and in seconds, he had appeared before Sarah in an array of dark mist. The scene around him was beyond anything he expected. The flames were rising higher along the walls and the gray smoke was becoming thicker by the minute. Sarah was convulsing horribly in front of him, her skin becoming flushed and damp from the heat.

Jareth was stunned by the amount of pain he felt coming from her. She would surely die if he didn't get her out of this room. He started for Sarah, but he walked straight into an invisible shield, it made a huge _thunk_ as he banged into it. There was nothing he could see but he could sense a strong, almost impenetrable invisible force-field surrounding her.

She had said the words, but he couldn't go to her. He knew that even if he tried to call out to her, she wouldn't hear. He ran his hands over the invisible wall, trying to feel or accumulate any sort of power from it. It had dark magic all over the surface, and it took everything in him to remain calm. What good would it do to resort to frenzied anger and panic? There had to be something he could call upon, one last shred of light to burn this spell...

Sarah lay face down on the floor with the lack of oxygen beginning to suffocate her. Her lungs refused to assimilate any of the remaining air, and the world began to swirl around her when she closed her stinging eyes. Tremors shook through each and every inch of her body.

Jareth suddenly felt their presence behind him. They were there, watching him. He didn't turn to look at their hideous form but continued to watch in contained horror as Sarah began to twitch and convulse from the smoke.

"I did all that you commanded," he said in a tightly controlled voice. "Why are you taking her from me? You said I could keep her."

Some of them snarling now, moved towards him. "You have feelingsss for thisss mortal," they said in their raspy, guttural voice. "You were warned from the beginning, when she was ssstill a child, but you refused to listen. She will die. If not now then another day. Ssshe is mortal!"

Sarah writhed on the floor in unbearable pain, looking up weakly toward where Jareth stood watching with unseeing eyes. Jareth shook with rage and through clenched teeth said, "Let me ease her pain, let it run through me. Take me so that she may live."

The goblins made a noise that must have been an attempt at laughter. It sounded more like a death rattle to Jareth and he found the noise revolting. "You call yourssself a King!" they taunted. "We rule _you!_ You brought the darknesss into your sssoul and we claim you asss oursss! And to ssshow you how powerful we are, you will live on in your dessspair, and you will watch thisss girl die. No one under our rule ssshall ever fall in love with a mere mortal!"

The goblins spat these last words with disgust. They would not be dissuaded. They would make him watch his Sarah die.

A fierce strength of will raged through Jareth's entire being as he looked up from her. Death was so close he could smell its putrid scent in the air. Her face was a ghostly white, her eyes dull and rolled partly back into her head. He couldn't feel the heat from the blazing fire or the sting of the smoke. All he could feel was the yawning emptiness inside himself if Sarah died. Superman had once turned the world back for a woman he loved, and he would have done the same for Sarah a thousand times over if it meant her life. He hated himself more than ever now for never telling her that. Damn his pride and damn his vanity.

His cape furled about him silently, waiting, biding his precious time. His hand had been at his side and he held out his palm out towards Sarah, beckoning. Something in her pocket had twitched, hesitated, then shot out into the air.

The diamond glittered in the firelight before it landed into Jareth's waiting hand. The goblins had seen what he had summoned and screeched in protest. But Jareth was quick to pour his magic into the diamond before holding it upward to the Heavens.

A wisp of silver escaped the diamond, hovering like a mist, and then bloomed magnificently. The room exploded with light and extinguished the flames on contact. Jareth stood utterly still, arm extended as a great owl, its body luminous, stretched its wings high like a phoenix above the Goblin King. The magnificent show of its wings slashed through the darkness and the goblins wilted in its wake. They tried to sweep down over the owl and Jareth in black waves, but the owl's wings became larger and brighter with each beat. The room blazed with light and blinded the mass of huddled goblins, creatures from the dark netherworlds far beyond the confines of his Labyrinth that he was so willingly allowed into his domain. Now banished back to that void of despair; they faded, dark liquid running together, the light in their yellow eyes dulling; until nothing was left but a scorched room. The light ebbed and the owl's luminous body flickered until it too was gone. The world had grown suddenly silent.

Jareth let his arm drop and held the diamond up, just inches from his face. A single thread of light was all that remained, spinning down into the confines of the still glittering gem, until a fragile mist escaped the surface, then, the light was gone.

Her mouth was open, the air was finally clearing and she was able to breathe deeply again. The pain was finally lifted, but Sarah's chest still throbbed from the once stifling heat and the sting of smoke. Her entire body was still afire with the ebbing agony.

Jareth dropped to his knees beside her and gathered her limp form to his body, murmuring her name over and over, as though calling to her might wake her faster. But there was no need for panic, he could feel her pulse beneath her skin; faint, but it was there. He tore off his leather glove with his teeth and smoothed her flushed cheek with his bare hand. The electric shock passed over her skin, just as he anticipated, and she jerked awake.

He watched as Sarah's eyes clenched, and she breathed deeply as if she had emerged from water. Her head wobbled from side to side. "You came…" she murmured, "Bruce…" She finally opened her eyes, just in time to see the hurt in Jareth pass across his face before it became blank and expressionless.

Jareth's eyes met hers, icy glass, as the room became dark again, with nothing left of the light storm but the dust that settled.

Behind them, the door finally crashed open, splintering the burnt dresser. Jareth set Sarah back on the floor none too gently, and stared down at her as he rose to his full height. Still dazed, Sarah lay still to catch her breath.

Jareth turned and met a pair of sharp, black eyes watching him carefully. He relished in other's fear sometimes, especially if it was someone as complicated and unyielding as he was. They stood and faced each other, Batman and the Goblin King, neither one speaking; each regarding the same black armor, the same daunting presence, the same ambiguity that cemented itself into their very skin.

There was little he could do now. His power was too weak. He needed to go back Underground to recover his strength and build his magic again. But he knew exactly who to send in his place.

At last, Jareth broke the silence. "Get her out." With that, Jareth collapsed into the floor and disappeared from Batman's line of sight.

Batman took a moment to take in what he had just seen, but when he saw Sarah lying on the floor, gasping, he rushed across the room, his cape whipping behind him, and crouched down beside her.

"Are you alright?" he said under his breath.

She nodded, not able to trust her voice.

Batman pulled her up and set her on her feet. He ducked his head to her ear and whispered, "I have to get you out, don't try to fight me anymore, do you understand?"

Sarah nodded again, weakly.

* * *

"He was coming for her," the Scarecrow announced to his men following him, "I know he was and we weren't about to stop him." He rushed up the main staircase, snatched another fire bottle from one of his men, lit the wick, and hurled it at the drapes.

"Break the chairs," he ordered, "use them as torches to light the castle on fire!"

They did as they were told and used the wooden legs of chairs and picture frames to set the grand hallway ablaze. They went from window to window, lighting drapes, lace curtains, everything. Scarecrow began laughing and shouting, "Stop him, he's mad!" His laugh quickly turned maniacal and even his men kept their distance. "Behead this fascist here," Scarecrow started to sing, lighting the walls on fire and tearing down marble busts. "You're to blame, you're to blame! You've brought nothing but shame, and we won't shed a tear!" He held his arms open wide as the frescos and pillars were slowly consumed by the flames. "Come minions, let's take him away. We're taking back all you stole in your name…"

* * *

Sarah was exhausted. Her hair and clothes reeked so much of smoke that it wouldn't stop from making her eyes water. Her body started to ache but she wouldn't give herself time to rest or even slow down. Her hands and arms were shaking terribly and she forced herself not to look at the sharp, bloody marks that cut into them.

Batman was in even worse shape. He was limping but attempting to cover it, sweat began to bead down his face and his shoulders looked hunched from exhaustion, as well. She led him down the hallway that would have led back to the rooftop, but Batman suddenly stopped her, listening carefully. She heard it too. It was heavy breathing and then the sound of metal scraping metal.

Batman lifted his arm above Sarah to pull her down to the floor and cover her with his cloak. But he wasn't quick enough. Sarah was suddenly flung backward and her body slammed into the far wall. A shock wave had knocked them flat as the hallway exploded from a small grenade that was thrown in from the cross hallway. Someone had been waiting for them.

Sarah propped herself on her knees and shook her head. Her vision turned dark and hazy, the only sound that could barely break through was deeply muffled. She gripped her head in agony, she couldn't hear, she couldn't focus, she couldn't breathe! Her body was nearing the point where it couldn't take anymore. She simply didn't prepare herself for any of this.

She felt hands under her arms scooping her up with difficulty, and she knew it was Batman from his touch. He managed to lift her to her feet and she took off running with him. She was beginning to shake with excess adrenaline.

Batman looked up just before another explosion hit from above. He turned, grabbed Sarah, and pulled her to the wall as a tremendous wall of flame caved-in, blocking their way.

Sarah cried out in horror.

Scarecrow wanted to burn the entire theater to the ground!

Even through her muffled hearing she could still hear explosions from up above, followed by the sound of timber crashing. Batman grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled them back the way they came. They would have to go all the way around the auditorium again, among the sets and dark rooms where anyone could have been hiding or waiting for them.

They raced down the long corridor until Batman stopped short, Sarah with him when they saw strong silhouettes of men racing towards them. Batman didn't have a choice. He shoved Sarah into an open room and slammed the door behind them.

Sarah stumbled inside and recognized the space as the green room. A terrible sound shook the walls behind her, and at first she thought the crash was the sound of the door coming down. But when Sarah turned she saw that Batman had pulled down the mahogany cabinet across the door, breaking many of the precious commodities inside in the process. A heavy table had been dragged toward the door too, so that even if the cabinet gave way no one could enter.

Batman stepped back from his handiwork to catch his breath. "Sarah…" he looked at her strangely for a moment, his eyes black and bright and unreadable, but he was unable to finish his sentence. A terrible weight suddenly crashed against the door, splintering the top half right out of the frame. A large, metal urn had been smashed against the door like a caber. They both recognized the burlap mask of Scarecrow leering in at them. The fire was nearing the green room from Scarecrow's side. He was a demon in the foreground of the Hell he had created.

"You cannot escape from fear," he screamed in a high, scornful voice. "Fear is not a delusion. You are a sentient mortal condemned to die, and time is against you both!" He raised his shotgun so that they could see it. "Poor little bat," his voice turned into a simper. "You're in my world now!"

Batman stood braced in front of Sarah as Scarecrow brandished his gun and cocked the trigger. He took a step toward the door, shotgun leveled. "I see you, Batman!" He fired a single shot into the air.

Sarah flinched and covered her ears. But Batman was stubborn. He didn't even wince when the shards of plaster grazed his shoulders.

Scarecrow began to laugh. In the firelight she could see his masked head, thrown back in mad ecstasy. Around Scarecrow, the ruin of Bruce Wayne and Jareth's creation lay in pieces and shards. His laughter was terrible. There was a new note in his voice, a note almost of joy. He fired the gun again into the ceiling, making plaster fall like bloody feathers in the firelight.

"Why are you fighting me, Batman?" His voice was breaking with laughter, hysteria; in that moment he seemed to be enjoying himself. "You know you're just as crazy the rest of us!" He was dry-firing the shotgun, though the barrels were empty. His elongated shadow on the floor was red and black and giant. His voice rose to a scream. "You're just as crazy as she!"

Batman stood tensed, but Sarah could tell from the way he was clenching his fist and shifting his weight that he wanted nothing more than to leap out that door and pummel Scarecrow with his bare fists.

Scarecrow was still screaming when the first exploding bottle hit the floor. It went out, but Sarah began to scream when she saw the flames from the second bottle catch the curtains, and the third the cracked ruin of the dresser.

Scarecrow was still screaming, out of control, "Come out! The both of you crazies, come out!

Sarah grabbed Batman's arm and pulled him back to the adjoining door on the other side of the room. Batman hesitated a moment then whipped around to rush them out the back way. But of course when Batman opened the door, they were waiting. Their faces were red with firelight. Petrov barred their way, flanked by several Russians, all with trembling faces. Whether from fatigue or rage, Sarah couldn't tell. Behind her the room whispered and snickered as the flames took.

They all suddenly charged into the room, fists and weapons raised high. Batman pushed Sarah back as far as he could, but she knew she had to get out of the room. For a second there was a gap where two men had been and she leaped through it, relying on her strength to push under flying elbows and wriggling between bodies. She felt someone tried to grab her, but he suddenly screamed and flinched backward, as if something had bitten him. She scrambled away from the fight and felt herself pinned, suffocated between a sudden surge of bodies. She clawed her way to air and space, barely feeling the inadvertent blows that fell upon her.

Sarah finally crawled free. The stink of smoke was getting stronger. She coughed and put her shirt back over her mouth and nose. No one followed her out except for the column of black that emerged from the small mass of falling bodies. Batman rushed her through the corridor, but before they could reach the end, Scarecrow planted himself in their way.

Batman and Sarah stopped in their tracks, both sweating profusely now, Sarah more from fear than the heat.

"And after fear," Scarecrow screeched triumphantly, "oblivion!"

Batman pulled a small bead from his belt and threw it at Scarecrow. It exploded in a small cloud, it looked like choking gas. But with his breathing, burlap mask, Scarecrow was able to walk through the cloud unharmed.

Scarecrow threw the gun down with a crash. "Where do you get all those wonderful toys?"

Someone grabbed Batman from behind. He turned and wrestled with Petrov, leaving Sarah unprotected. Scarecrow finally saw his chance and walked with intent toward her. Sarah pushed herself against the wall, there was nowhere to go. Batman was behind her fighting for their lives and Scarecrow was coming closer, and she was becoming weaker…

Her face, even now, dirty and flushed, was filled with defiance as he came closer, almost touching her. She opened her mouth to speak…

He reached his hand out to grab her throat.

A small, almost bat-like creature zipped past Sarah's shoulder and bit Scarecrow's hand. Scarecrow hissed and pulled his hand back. The little creature fluttered in front of his masked face, unafraid. It was small, but orange with wings and a long tail. And what looked like very sharp teeth.

Scarecrow shrieked and clutched his leg. He looked down at a possum-looking creature with black eyes. Sarah immediately recognized it as a goblin. Her mouth fell open. It had seemed like years since she had seen a goblin. Did she say the words without realizing it?

She looked past Scarecrow and stared at the horde of goblins decked in their battle gear, rusty spikes and red war paint, holding their spears and cannons. Scarecrow followed her gaze and looked behind him at the entire hallway crammed full of goblins. Every kind of goblin she could remember; big, small, ugly, cute, flying… They were watching Scarecrow with their fixed, beady eyes, tensed and ready to attack at any given minute.

Scarecrow made a sound at the back of his throat and dared to take a step back. That's when the battle cry arose and smothered even the sound of the fire. The hallway was a screeching swarm swooping through the archways directly at Scarecrow. He screamed and cowered as a maelstrom of squealing, chittering goblins descended upon him. Filling the air like a rusty, colorful cloud, it looked like there were hundreds of them, attacking in blind fury. They howled and gnashed their teeth as a flock of fairies and flying creatures flew around Scarecrow's head in a vicious, biting swarm. Fierys gaggled and attempted to pull his limbs off, trash goblins threw their garbage and Sarah had to duck to avoid their missed aim.

Scarecrow screamed in his own, real fear this time. His arms flailed about, trying to hit his attackers but without much success. When the goblin knights in their full armor with their weapons raised and their gnashing monsters with their over-sized teeth charged, Scarecrow finally ran. But nothing would stop the goblins.

Sarah immediately reacted and pushed Batman down against the opposite wall. They collapsed to the floor as the goblin horde charged through the hall, some at full metal jacket, and some a bit clumsily. But it didn't stop Petrov or the Scarecrow from running and screaming in terror, plunging into the night.

Sarah hung her head in relief. She was not only grateful for the intervention but because she recognized the goblin for what they were, not shadows. For her, the goblins she had just seen were commonplace and if that weren't enough to prove she was 'normal' again; a small, furry, over-excited goblin bounced after the horde, stopped in front of her and grinned.

"It's good to be back," he croaked before he bounced after his comrades, his rusty sword raised.

Sarah watched the little goblin scurry away and waited a few beats before bending down over Batman. "You're alright," she whispered, soothing. "Did you see anything?"

He shook his head, breathing low and deep. The lick of the flames was coming closer. She put her arm under his to heave him up. His body working on pure adrenalin, he lurched into position and heaved out into the darkness with her.

They reached the same passage she had shown him earlier, back toward the stage where the twisted staircase led to the roof. Breathing through harsh gasps of air, they finally made it through the passage and back onto the stage.

In front of the auditorium something collapsed with a splintering crash, and everything suddenly burst into flame. Where people once seated themselves for a performance was a blazing inferno of terrific proportions with sheets of flames sweeping through the seats of the auditorium. Sarah felt a sharp pummel of heat reach her across the hall. Batman was slowly weakening with the fumes and the heat. She could see it in his face and the texture of his skin.

Before they could reach the staircase a body plowed itself into Batman and knocked him to the floor with a terrible crash. Sarah cried out as she watched Batman writhe on the ground, bleeding from the re-opened wound that hadn't properly healed.

Yuri stood over Batman. His fists were raised and he had the look of intent written all over his features. He was ready to beat Batman to death at that moment.

Sarah glared at Yuri before her, rage coursing through her like an uncontrollable wave, her temple throbbing with nerve and her eyes shimmering in the firelight. She hurled her body against Yuri's back in a grapple, her arms reaching around his thick neck. He was caught off guard but managed to grab her forearm, but she was quicker. Sarah clenched his wrist that was over hers and twisted it cruelly in her grasp. The sound of bones cracking met his ears and sent him quickly to his knees. His turquoise eyes looked up into emerald ones that were alight with red-gold wrath.

Behind them, the high arch of the doors to the auditorium collapsed in a spray of fireworks. A chimney of superheated air rose red into the ceiling, sending spume and firecrackers squaking like a geyser of flame.

Sarah didn't see it. She was towering over Yuri in a blind, uncomprehending fury. So much so that she didn't even see Yuri slip something from his pocket and pull the top off. The metal clink was a familiar sound that snapped her out of her rage. But it was too late. Yuri had already released the grenade and was grinning maliciously up at her.

She didn't even have a chance to react. Batman tackled her and collapsed down to the floor with her, knocking the wind right of her and sent a jolt through her body from the impact. A thunder echoed throughout the stage as a surge of a small explosion lashed out at everything. The floor blew away; pieces of the stage and set were flung away from each other, the ground shook with the blast's intensity, wood and plaster flew up and created a tremendous hole. For a moment, Batman and Sarah stayed motionless, she was too fearful to move or even breathe.

Batman finally did and moved toward the hole, where he looked down at the small figure of Yuri, his body lie splayed and broken. Dead.

Batman sighed heavily. Yuri was finally down, permanently. But he would have liked to see him behind bars. Death seemed like the easy escape from the wreckage he had caused. The girls from Gotham who he helped maim and kill. And for what he did to Sarah. He looked back at her to see her eyes cracking open, wincing and making every effort to push herself up. They looked at each other, bloodied and bruised, fighting for air within the crumbling inferno. They had been pushed to the brink of exhaustion, but they had won.

Sarah went slack with empathy at the look on Batman's face. It was clear Yuri was dead and that wasn't what Batman at all. He wanted justice. His inner pain for seeing this seemed to go deeper than she could have ever imagined. It was he who was broken by this. He couldn't feel any satisfaction for his death, and cursed himself with a wave of insurmountable failure that consumed him as he saw her before him.

She forced herself to move despite the ache in her body, and he moved towards her too, but didn't hear the floor creak from under him. His weight was too much for the weakening wood and it finally gave way, and he disappeared suddenly from Sarah's sight.

"Bruce!" she screamed. She began to crawl on the floor toward the hole, ignoring the increasing pain. A rumbling sound was heard as the auditorium roared and shifted with the flames, and objects from the rafters fell from the ceiling.

Batman was holding on to a protruding piece of wood that was slowly cracking under his dead weight. He hung perilously, watching the broken pieces of the stage fall stories below. With his last bit of strength, he hoisted himself up, but the wood began to tear and break.

Sarah felt the floor creak beneath her as she reached out, almost brushing Batman's shoulder. He felt her touch and shot his head up. His eyes went wide.

"Get back!" he roared.

Sarah shook her head. She just managed to touch his arm. "I almost got you!"

But her weight combined with his had tipped the balance too far. She felt the floor begin to break apart.

Batman was straining to lift himself up. He was too weak to hold himself with one arm while the other could reach for his grapple gun.

Sarah was struggling to reach for him, but she knew she was already too late. She knew what she really had to do to save him. It was the only way to end this. She felt the power within her rising. She made her decision. But her heart was twisting painfully in her chest. She could clearly see the pain in his eyes and his voice. If she could save him from death, then this was what she had to do. She would not let him fall.

Still reaching for him, her breath caught for a moment. That wave of pure energy washed over her; and her voice echoed, reverberated, and shook the burning foundations of the theater.

"I wish… I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!"

She screamed when the floor finally gave way beneath her and they both fell at a tremendous speed.

* * *

**AN:** Haha, cliffhanger! One more week til the movie comes out, and I'll for sure have the next chapter out by then. Thank you, thank you to all the reviews! FelineNinjaGrace, London Bai, Aletta Wolf, Kuronekko, FireShifter, Cassie, word junky, tselea, I know I'm leaving out a few, but thank you so much! Besitos!


	38. Redemption

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth nor anything DC.

* * *

Sarah braced herself for the impact, but it never came. She simply fell into darkness, the world taking on a surreal quality, falling into inky depths below. It was an eternal oubliette, endless, and without bottom. Was this death? Or was she falling straight into the Underground?

Vertigo suddenly gripped her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her head was pounding and she felt like she was spinning through a vortex. Time stood still then whirled backward with a sickening rush through her senses.

Then it was over.

A quiet calm slowly washed over her and her mind began to clear; her breathing began to return to normal. Without even opening her eyes, her senses were all too aware that she had been in this place before. The scent of water, damp stone, and burning wax from the many candles that were lit were immediately recognized.

Eyes blinking open she found herself staring at a star filled sky, the moon shining down on her like a beacon in the night. No. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The starlit sky was a translucent black canopy capturing the candlelight in the most beautiful way. She was surrounded by this iridescent fabric of night sky while lying on the same bed of black she had found herself in once before.

_"This is the closest I can bring you to the Underground without your consent…"_

Sarah moved her body and found herself dressed in a beaded gown of white lace covering every inch of her, hiding the cuts that still stung. Under the same fire light, she could have been wearing another sky of white stars.

Every muscle in her body ached but she felt like she had slept for days. This scared her more than anything. How long had she slept for? Where was Bruce?

She gently shifted to the side of the bed and lifted the canopy away. The light reflected and bounced back splendidly onto the dark walls of the cavern. Candles and candelabrums were lit and placed on every available surface. Mirrors were placed along the walls, making the cave seem bigger and brighter from the light's reflection.

She peeked around the hem of the canopy and saw that his throne was still in front of the lake. But the Goblin King wasn't sitting in it. He was standing over it and had his back turned to her. When he heard her stepping down toward him, he looked over his high-armored shoulder at her.

She stopped, and paused at the top of the stone stairs, eyes shining with unease. They stared at each other intently, his formality never slipping off his face, his posture remaining regal. His cloak of midnight black draped over his back and slithered down in a train just as long as her white gown. His whole dark attire glittered in the reflection of the candles, as well.

For a long while they regarded each other in silence, considering, and searching each other.

Despite the white gown she wore, Sarah looked rather worse for wear; dried blood was above her eye, dirt smears on her neck, her hair a mess.

"Is he gone?" She tried to seem brave, but knowing what she had asked for, it was hard to hide the fear in her voice. "I said the words." He didn't answer and she suddenly feared the very worst. "Is he dead?"

Jareth shook his head. "No."

She breathed a sigh of relief. But it didn't quell her fear. "Will you turn him into a goblin?"

"I have not decided yet."

"I'll run for him!" She pleaded and stepped down. "I'll run the Labyrinth if that's what you'll make me do, I'll do it."

His face twisting in anger, Jareth turned away from her again, walking to the seat of his throne.

"Wait!" Sarah said suddenly, feeling that familiar flash of energy sweep through her. She stepped down the rest of the stairs carefully toward him, her whole demeanor softening and changing into submission. "I will go with you. I will be yours forever if you let him go, if you let him live, I'm yours. My life for his."

Jareth had stopped. He didn't turn to her. Instead he bowed slightly, his pale golden locks falling over his face. "Life with me is a death sentence," he said softly. "Perhaps it is." He tilted his head up and regarded her silently, his alien beauty frozen, as smooth as glass. "Perhaps cruelty doesn't become you."

Sarah silently cursed herself. It did sound cruel, the words she had just said. But she couldn't help herself, she felt near hysterics. She took a shaking breath and stepped down closer. "I'm begging you! Please help him, and I'll become what you always wanted."

He stepped towards her, mechanical, lacking his usual animal grace. He was silent as he stared deeply into her eyes. He could have been carved from the same stone closing them in, for all the expression he showed. Sarah stared back at him, silently begging for an answer. She flicked her eyes over his face, searching desperately for some sort of clue to his thoughts. But his eyes were cold mirrors, and betrayed nothing.

Until he vanished in a small wisp of black smoke.

Her eyes finally closed as she sank down to the ground. The enormity of what she had just done began to hit her. She always did leap before she looked. This was never in the plan. She came here to beg Jareth for help and to finally tell him she truly loved him. It had escalated beyond what she was expecting. But she said the words. If it meant saving the life of one who not only saved her life more than once, but had also saved others, then this was a price she had to pay. She owed Bruce that much.

An image of her family came to her; right now they would all be sleeping at home before another normal day at work or at school, completely unaware that she would probably never see them again. Tears started to drip down her cheeks. What if she couldn't even say good-bye?

Now she was alone, faced with the decision she had just made. She looked up and scanned the dark of the cave. Would the Underground be like this? No, she had seen sunlight there, and trees, and living creatures.

"_It's going to be magical, Sarah,_" she thought. _"Of course it will, and you will be a Queen. Isn't that what you always wanted?"_

Thoughts of what becoming a Queen would entail flashed through her mind. Fame. Recognition. Admiration. Love.

She so badly wanted all of these things when she was a teenager while reciting her lines in front of the mirror, applying her cheap makeup, and wearing her paper crown. Isn't that why she decided to act in the first place? Because she wanted all of that?

"_No, it was my gift of transcendence. I am not my mother."_

But did she still want all of that? Yes, she still wanted to feel just as important. Subconsciously she knew that this was why she loved to be on the stage. People saw her, applauded her, and sang her praises. And she reveled in it. She was no different from the woman who left her family behind to pursue her own selfish desires, her dreams.

She looked at herself in one of the mirrors, and scowled, disgusted. She put her head in her hands. She _was_ cruel.

* * *

A fiery red glow filled his head, burning out the darkness, and resolved itself into a scene he had long repressed in the back of his mind. Everything was liquid, weightless objects moving in a tinted, soundless cityscape as distant, classical music played underneath. Three figures appeared in a dark alley: Dr. Thomas Wayne, his wife Martha, and himself – a very young Bruce Wayne. Together they began walking down the deserted street. Thomas and Martha were laughing, making jokes, reaching down to tousle Bruce's hair. Their faces were full of joy.

Then a handgun entered the frame.

The Wayne family froze in their tracks. Thomas stepped forward protectively, reached for his wallet, and began unbuckling his watch. He wouldn't put up a fight.

The man Bruce had etched perfectly in his mind for years, Joe Chill, took the cash and gestured for Martha to hand over her pearl necklace. But she was too paralyzed with fear to move. Joe Chill stepped past Thomas, snatching at the necklace. The instant his wife was threatened, Thomas attacked. The pearl strand broke in the gunman's hand as he dropped toward the sidewalk.

A silent burst of flame erupted from the muzzle of the gun.

Thomas crumpled to the ground as Martha emitted a piercing shriek - a shriek Bruce couldn't hear - a shriek cut short by a second burst of flame.

Bruce stood, paralyzed in shock. Joe Chill reached for Martha's purse, and rose slowly - his gun leveled directly at the boy. Almost catatonic, Bruce stared down at his parents. At their hands that were somehow intertwined. At the tiny, glinting pearls and the spreading pool of blood around them.

He looked up with a gaze so bleak, so petrifying... that Joe Chill turned and ran.

"Bruce," his father whispered, looking up at him. "Don't be afraid…"

Bruce saw himself as a young boy, standing over his parent's corpses, alone. The scene was still frozen in time when he heard his name being called. Bruce, grown now, looked up, agonized and ashamed of the memory. The horror of seeing his parents' death again struck him to the core; but more importantly, the horror that someone would dare to violate this most private and terrible of moments.

"Bruce…" A voice beckoned. Bruce turned around, his tear-stained face slack with horror.

A woman was standing on the sidewalk nearby and crying with Bruce. The woman was Sarah. But the voice calling his name belonged to a man. Accented, deep, and soothing.

"What is this?!" Bruce threw back his head and shouted to the night sky. "Why are you showing me this?"

Sarah's form vanished in a cloud of smoke as the Goblin King stepped in her place. Bruce stepped back instinctively, remembering the fear that was inflicted on him by this person. Except that he wasn't a person. He was dressed so differently, so outrageously, his eyes didn't know where to look first. Tall and slender, his white-gold hair flowed down like a lion's mane; his accentuated features holding a practiced arrogance. He was dressed in black; a bizarre combination of glamorous rock star and a Bronte anti-hero.

Every step that he took flowed with predatory grace that was both frightening and strangely fascinating to behold. Bruce disliked him instantly.

"I am Jareth, the Goblin King." He stepped closer, thousands of tiny dark lights shimmered as he moved. "And I'm here to help you." Bruce stepped back, still wary. Jareth caught the guarded look in his eyes and his features softened just slightly. "As much as I wanted to before, I will not harm you now."

Bruce was still completely traumatized. He stared at Jareth unblinking, lost in his despair. So much so that the fear began to slowly ebb away from him. He had been searching so long for an encounter with this being and to possibly find answers to the world he was still fighting to understand. None of that seemed to matter now.

Jareth sighed, and felt pity for the young man. "This was the clearest, most significant memory of your life. It was the only way to reach you for my power is still weak."

Bruce's sorrow quickly gave way to anger. He began to take deep, heated breaths; enraged that he had to see this again, furious that someone else had _allowed_ him see it again. "It's you. I've seen you before, with Sarah." Bruce's eyes were cold and menacing all matching the tone of his voice. "I don't understand. How are you real?"

Jareth kept his voice smooth as glass. "You were once obsessed with a man who could fly. Things are not always what they seem at the surface. Even you of all people, should know that."

Bruce's mouth gaped open suddenly. "Are you Death? Am I dead?"

Jareth leveled his gaze. Though Bruce could see he had become slightly irritated. "No, I am not. And you are not dead. The agreement is that I let you live and give you a way out."

"What agreement?"

Jareth remained silent and still, and didn't even blink.

Bruce let his silence sink in. His heart stopped when he realized what the terms were. "You're taking her, aren't you?" Bruce stared, watching him as Jareth remained immobile. "Fine." Bruce nodded in a condescending manner. "I don't know if you noticed, but it was me who took her in when she had nowhere to go. I did my absolute best trying to protect her. I rescued her, I was with her. I tried teaching her to control her fears, her pain! Where the hell were you? When she cried or tried to hurt herself, or when someone horrible hurt her? Something like you!"

He didn't even flinch as Bruce recounted all the things he had done to help Sarah.

Bruce shook with rage. "Say something!"

Jareth tilted his head, his angular features beautifully pale in the light. "I have saved you from death and absolve you of a fate even worse than that." His clipped voice and haughty demeanor carried no anger, and it left Bruce taken aback. "I have seen your past and the pain it has brought to you. But you channel it well. So use it to protect your city and your world to the best of your ability."

Bruce couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So everything I have done for her was all for nothing?"

"Absolutely not!" He flinched this time, but not enough for Bruce to notice. "You kept her alive. That means more to me than you could possibly imagine. You have defeated at least half of the Russian mob and you've stopped the killing of innocent women because Yuri is no longer a matter of concern."

Bruce shook his head, suddenly dismayed. "I wanted to see him behind bars. Justice wasn't served."

Jareth merely shrugged. "To each his own. The man is dead and I certainly won't bring him back because you have your own rules and morals to live by. You are as much a vigilante as you are a hero. You have to make allowances from time to time. Be glad a fiend like Yuri is dead and gone." He gestured around them. "Look around you, Prince of Gotham. This is as good a reason as any to accept what simply is."

Bruce shivered inwardly. He didn't want to look around him. He didn't want to be here anymore. He squared his shoulders back and regained his posture. "It's _you_ who doesn't understand," he said, the pain never leaving his voice. "If I don't live by my rules then I am no better than the criminals and the psychopaths. I will never kill for my own gain. If I do then I could slip into something that I would never come back from. Gotham could be lost if I become like them," he said gravely. "This isn't just about Sarah."

"For me it is." Jareth let the words hang in the air and watched Bruce for a moment before a faint, almost impish smile spread over his lips. "Find her," he challenged, "if that is your wish." He turned to leave, but then hesitated. "Is it?"

Gloom shrouded Bruce as he nodded his head sadly. With that, a bright light exploded, filling Bruce's mind. It scorched out the image of Jareth and the scene all around him as a harsh, ringing sound pierced his ears.

* * *

"It's done." Jareth swept into the cave and moved past Sarah.

"He's okay?" Sarah shot to her feet. "You helped him?"

Jareth threw his cloak back before sitting in his throne. "Yes, I helped him. He will not become a goblin. Nor will he be a prisoner in the Labyrinth." He made a small motion with his hand. "I release him."

Sarah nearly slumped over as the breath she felt like she had been holding in was finally released. "Thank you..."

"And you?" He turned his head and looked at her as if she were already under his rule. "Do you know your fate?"

She was so overwhelmed with relief that she didn't notice his hands clenching at his armrests. She realized that the moment she had so feared was finally here. At least the truth would come with whatever fate was in store for her. It was now or never.

Sarah moved forward, anxiously twisting her fingers and willed herself towards his throne. She stood in front of him, the candlelight etching their figures exquisitely before each other. She shivered as a small draft seemed to waft around her.

"_Fear me…" _

She shivered again, but not from cold this time. Sarah slowly sank to the floor again, at the foot of his throne, completely surrendering to the moment, the feeling of letting go and confessing what lay behind the wall of her heart. He watched her as she placed her hand on his. "Jareth…" she whispered, looking at their hands placed together. "I didn't mean what I said because I don't regret the decision I made." She looked up at him and leaned forward, slowly, carefully. "I love you."

There wasn't one clear emotion that passed through his face. His voice was heartless and cold. "My, what a pretty liar you are."

Sarah was stung. She expected some doubt. But this was not a lover's game he was playing. He was completely devoid of any humanity. "I'm not lying," she coaxed.

Jareth suddenly stood and towered over her. "Do you think me a fool?" he spat. "I should have ignored you from the first. I curse myself, damn myself for all eternity, for not looking the other way!" He stepped down and began to pace furiously. The shattering of his smooth, cold gaze seemed to tear apart every piece of him. "How cruel I have been to you – it's no wonder you hate me so." He stopped pacing and turned to her. A dull fire was beginning to flare behind his icy walls of pride. "I often wish that I was not like this. You mortals have free will and choose who to love."

"That's a lie." She stood on her feet. "We never choose who to love." She dared to step closer to him. "The night you kissed me onstage, the night of 'Salome', I knew what I was doing. I could have stopped you but I didn't. I let it happen because I wanted you back in my world." She let the truth pour out of her. She didn't dare hold anything back now. "It was a risk I was willing to take because I love you. I am _in_ love with you. I don't care if you tricked me, I'm glad you did."

Jareth sighed and brushed his fingers over her temple where her cut was still fresh. "Such sadness in your eyes," he said softly. "I always wanted to be the one to bring light into them." His hand dropped like dead weight. "It seems other men have brought that to you. You came here willingly – to make a deal with the devil. A life for a life."

She moved even closer, just inches from his armored chest. "I said I didn't mean it like that. You're not listening to me!"

He carelessly waved her away as if she were a fly. But something flashed in his eyes. It was fleeting but Sarah could see it. He was the focus of her fear for so long it was time he showed his. It was time he removed his mask and exposed his true face.

Full of years of frustration, Sarah turned her full force on him and her words gushed forth. "_Show me your face without fear!"_ Her shout echoed throughout the cave and her hands instinctively went for his chest.

Jareth turned too late and couldn't stop her reach. Her hands managed to encircle his Crescent Moon pendant. A blaze of while light suddenly blinded her and a warmth spread through her whole body. It was an indescribable sensation. Sarah was almost comatose. She saw things from the past. Visions that were gone so fast, she barely grasped them. A timeline of agelessness.

He was here before the first humans, the first ceremony, and the first temple. Respected then slowly forgotten. He ruled a world that remained largely unseen by humans; real and tangible, yet forbidden unless invited. He collected young children goblins stole from their unguarded cradles. Sometimes they were wished away by uncaring and thoughtless family members. He came to detest humans for forgetting who he was and what he did, even more so when they believed they could run the Labyrinth then give up not even halfway through. For turning their backs on the natural world and suffocating it with iron. For slowly becoming infected with the sickness of greed. He despised them even more when they took advantage of each other and taking each other's company for granted. For most of his existence was spent alone. Shut away in a world of illusions, he became far too accustomed to the cruel ways of his world.

A brighter light entered her mind. And she saw herself through his eyes. She was different from the rest. Perhaps she had an older soul or a touch of magic that had managed to pass through the worlds. Regardless of every reason that he could come to terms with, a spark had entered his heart and to his misfortune, had fallen in love. She immediately felt like a bird in flight that was forever tied to the Earth. Through that spark of love, he would never be free of her.

And she saw herself looking into a mirror again. Her diamond was glimmering like a star over her heart.

"_All are special…"_ a voice that was both male and female said. _"But you have been touched by the Other…"_

The mirror shattered to reveal the remnants of the Labyrinth floating in a dark, dizzying array. This was where she defeated him at only fifteen years old. But now she realized that this was the center of the Labyrinth, and therefore, the very heart of Jareth. No human had come this far and none ever would again because their souls had met and touched here in this space.

"_Only you could have come this close…"_

She felt herself rising again into her own body. Her eyes focused on this being before her, older than she could ever imagine, as old as the very Earth. He had lived hundreds of lifetimes because he had a soul that was cursed to live in that other realm for all eternity. And she could sense him like a live wire. She could feel his hunger, his need for her almost as deeply as she could feel her own heartbeat. Their souls clashed again for a moment, leaving her gasping for air.

Love. Hate. Despair. Desire. Deep hunger. Loneliness.

There was so much that came from this rare form of love – sacred and divine as it was. But it was etched with the deepest kind of heartache.

That sharp, electrical surge spread slowly through her body, consuming her. Her eyes opened, focusing dazedly on the eyes so close to hers that she could see the mis-matched pupils dilate within. She tried to let go and found that she couldn't. She was utterly helpless.

Jareth finally reached up and wrenched her free and they broke away from each other, Jareth falling back some.

When she blinked her vision had cleared. Jareth watched her closely and frowned. Their strength and their will were well-matched. But he was a King, a Fae, a being far different than from what made her a mortal. But when faced with someone that embodied love in its most elusive form, the entire world fell away, no matter how hard the battle to stay in control was fought.

He wanted to ask her what she had seen. She could see it in the way he held his head stiffly, the way his gloved hands clenched, as if to hold himself in check. But she could also see that he wouldn't. He was too proud to ask her, or too afraid.

She shook her head, unwilling to believe how much pain they had brought to each other. Should she tell him what she'd seen? Or did he already know?

Sarah looked at him, pitying. Her heart began to fill with guilt. "What life have you known?"

He turned away, then hesitated, pausing, assessing. He turned back and the Goblin King opened his arms to her, inviting her into his embrace. She fell forward into him, her face taking refuge into the hollow of his neck, feeling his warmth, smelling his wonderful scent of leather and deep red roses. She remembered being a young girl and frightened of this man, then defiant. Now they were both older, although he would never age, but they were both scarred. Both were in need of rescue and salvation.

"I'm so sorry…" her throat was constricted painfully with sorrow.

* * *

The bright light encompassed him in heat, and even when it dimmed, he was still sweating profusely, losing precious water his body desperately needed. Batman's eyes shot open and gasping, he found himself far below the stage of the auditorium that was quickly collapsing. Groaning, he shifted up and rolled over to his knees. He glanced over at Yuri's body and brushed off that clawing rack of guilt. He looked up again through the hole he and Sarah had fallen in, and he could see the lick of flames beginning to consume the stage. There wasn't much time.

He looked down at Yuri again and saw blood trickling down from his chest, over his side, and then down into the floor. But it wasn't pooling beneath him, it was seeping through small, yet discernible cracks.

Batman dropped to his knees and ripped out a small piece of the floor, screaming low and deep from the strain of it. A memory was triggered when he saw what looked like stone walls leading downward.

_"Little Lotte let her mind wander…"_

He could see an inky pool of water far below him. This must have been one of the places where the Gotham River would be diverted if it ever overflowed. But a theater over a lake was too much of a coincidence.

_"Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls…"_

There was no time to rip even several boards apart for him to fit through and he didn't have any large explosives in his belt. Batman looked up again... and sucked in hot air. He had to be insane to think that this would work, but it had to.

"_Or of goblins, of shoes, or of riddles..."_

He approached an overhang and began to climb with a reckless desperation. He grabbed a section of the wall's support scaffolding and began to wrench it free with an almost crazed fury. The stage above him began to crack and fall, debris pouring in at a furious pace. He was doused in a rain of dust and splintering pieces, but he kept pushing and pulling the loosening scaffolds. The space between him and where Yuri lay dead was obstructed by tons of falling wood and plaster and sand. It fell ever more furiously until the entire stage of the auditorium collapsed and crashed through the floorboards. He stumbled as the ground beneath him suddenly gave from the storm of wreckage, sucking him into the abyss. At the last minute, he reached for his utility belt and shot his grapnel gun into the air. His batarang flew upward and secured purchase high up in the metal rafters. He fell through the air and stopped short above the heap of debris that had fallen all around him.

"_Like a butterfly she flew about in the gold of the sun…" _

When enough of the dust had settled, he released the wire and dropped down, scanning the darkness. The cavern was just as enormous as the one beneath his home, where the Wayne manor once stood. The walls were scooped out, hollowed and eroded by centuries of running water but he could still hear the roar of the inferno from high above. The firelight reflected off the water and struck him with a gold luminescence. He looked in all directions, stumbling back on the heap of debris. To his right was a soft glow of silver light that was not like the fiery orange-gold. It wasn't the city glow or even moonlight. It was a light he had seen only once before - Sarah's diamond.

He caught his breath, held close to the shadows, and followed the light.

"_And her eyes was the suns, so bright blue and clear, but above them all she loved a little bird…" _

* * *

Jareth had never denied his feelings for Sarah. But he also desperately wanted to punish her for rejecting him so many times; it was simply in his nature to feel such things. He closed his eyes and tried to think clearly. He no longer felt the infatuated, possessive love he'd suffered when he first brought her to the Underground, but a different kind of love that made him want her to be happy even if it meant giving up his own happiness.

"_Am I capable of giving her that kind of love?"_ he asked himself, "_or would I be condemning her to a life of loneliness and misery? Do I love her enough to let her leave if it ever came to that?"_

He didn't let go of her. He didn't know if he could. The change in him had been instant, the anger now long gone. He didn't know how he could have ever imagined that he could be so angry at his reason for living. He knew that she could see his weakness, but he didn't seem to care now. An evil, arrogant Goblin King who despised all below him, and she wanted him.

He reluctantly let go of her, and reached inside his shirt, pulling out her diamond. It was a powerful talisman indeed, and it belonged to its rightful owner.

Sarah's eyes went wide. "You had it?" she asked, her breathing coming in short gasps. "Why?"

"I found it." He stretched the chain and gently placed it around her neck. Strands of his long hair brushed against Sarah's neck and shoulder.

She tugged on the silver chain fastened around her neck, and pulled out the diamond pendant into the candlelight. It was a celestial kaleidoscope of colors and light, pulsing with its pure yet complex power. Sarah reached up and closed her hand around the crystal diamond and trembled as she slipped it back next to her skin, relishing the heat radiating from it; and desperately clung to the flicker of hope that sprang to life inside of her. Despite the rush of haggard emotions that passed through her, she smiled up at him.

Jareth's eyes softened, but his mind was in absolute turmoil. If he truly loved her, should he damn her forever? Should he make her live in a place like this with him? At times surrounded by vile creatures? She didn't deserve that, but he needed her. How could he possibly go on without her?

But to subject her to this existence…

He had made his decision then and there, and readily steeled his emotions. "I can't live within you, Sarah," he said huskily, looking away, "and I can't live without you. And I have been a monster. I must let you go." The words were like icy splinters inside his body as he spoke. Only the sudden clenching of his fist suggested the words were wrenched from him.

Sarah was stopped cold. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. This was all wrong. She simply couldn't say anything, nothing registered in her mind for speech. She stared at him in disbelief, trying to find an answer. The look on her face was astonishing when she finally realized what he was saying. She felt her whole chest collapse and broke down completely. She looked at him with the most wounded eyes, sheer agony pouring over her face.

Her mouth opened and closed for words until she screamed, "No!" Her face was just inches from his. She clutched his heavy arms encircling her and looked him fiercely in the eye. "I'm giving myself to you freely."

A rumbling sound was heard and the ground roared and shifted. Pieces of rock fell from the ceiling of the cavern. Sarah jumped, her mind reeling as she pressed herself against Jareth.

Jareth only ducked his head and put his lips to the shell of her ear. "But you never _came_ to me freely. You came for someone else."

Sarah's heart dropped. She shot her head up and found a profound sadness lying deep within the depths of his eyes. She felt her insides turn with guilt. She had gone about this all wrong and said the wrong words. She was breaking his heart, and her heart, all over again.

Fragments of the heavy foundation of the theater collided and exploded, shaking the cavern violently. A piece of the stone wall cracked. Sarah turned around to see where it cracked, and then turned back to him.

Jareth wasn't phased by the crumbling debris. If anything, he planned to demolish what was left of his making.

"Will you turn around and look behind you as you pass through the door?" he began to ask her in monotone. "Will there be pain or regrets or bitterness you'll carry with you?" Sarah saw that the intimidating presence of the Goblin King was gone and instead there stood a being whom had loved and suffered her for years. "Will you resolve to forget what is behind and reach for what is ahead?"

Sarah began to shake her head furiously and grabbed the crook of his elbows. "Then don't let me go!"

"You are not a damsel in distress," he avowed, "and I am not the handsome prince to bring value to your path, I have said that before and I stand by that. I could not save you before because of what I had allowed into my world, into my very soul. You are relevant and precious without any attachment to any man. I shall leave you to your own destiny."

Sarah grabbed his hands. She was desperate, and back on the verge of hysterics. She knew that she was about to lose him forever. "Don't refuse me! Don't deny the truth that we both know. _You_ are my destiny!"

Jareth couldn't answer. All he wanted to do was take her away from all the pain. Forever. But it wasn't possible. It just couldn't be. He had already caused too much pain.

Sarah's breath came in rushed gasps. "I have been so, _so_ stupid! I denied everything I felt about you because of my pride. You were right all along. We were made for each other. I need you just as much as you need me!" She was struggling to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs. "The past has never been right between us, but now and the future is what we have, don't deny us that. I belong with you, if we both decide to stay Underground or not. I belong with _you_."

Jareth raised his head skyward, trying to control his emotions. She was right. He had never seen a girl that fitted with his magic so perfectly. He had always believed that she was born to be a Queen. His Queen. For a time, she had never loved anything in the world she was born into. Nothing, really, except her mother who lived and breathed characters from the most fantastic stories. That was why she had always tried to escape from her ordinary world, with her toys and her costumes and her books. She was made for the Underground. Made for him.

But that time was over. She had learned to love this world and many of the people who existed in it. Taking her to the Underground away from her family, her friends, the life she cherished, would turn her into a cold, pitiless shell of a woman. He was certain he would crush her spirit and her will that kept her alive if he stole her away now.

Sarah was waiting for his answer as part of the cave fell apart from the opening and crushed the black bed, ripping the translucent canopy to pieces. The mirrors began to shatter to the ground and into the lake. The soft glow of firelight seeped inside and set the lake and the pieces of broken glass ablaze with shining, metallic orange and yellow reflections. The cave began its final destruction.

Her eyes widened at the sight. She whipped her head around and looked at Jareth, silently imploring him to say or do something. But he didn't do anything. He was not looking at the cave tearing itself apart; he was staring into her flushed face and her eyes that were filling with despair.

"This isn't fair," her voice was breaking, "this isn't right! Don't condemn yourself. If you won't take me with you then don't break us apart, please!"

Hearing her beg for him was everything he had ever wanted. He simply wanted to take everything she was offering him. He felt his will breaking, his determination being dissolved.

"Go!" he said, almost shouting, his eyes unable to meet hers.

Sarah stepped back, frightened. What was happening? After everything they had ever been through, he couldn't really want her to go...

"You'll have to make me."

"What?" he replied, finally looking at her, his eyes full of unbearable pain.

She was glaring at him now, her body shaking, her hands tightly locked together. Falling debris rained down and enveloped them, but Sarah kept her eyes focused on him, fiercely intense and composed. The candles shattered to the ground. "You'll have to make me," she repeated, looking up at him with those striking eyes, quite determined. She was challenging him.

Jareth couldn't help the smile that passed over his face. His beautiful Sarah...

He reached out for her, and Sarah let him take her into him again. He placed her head in his hands and tilted her face back so she could better look up into his eyes. As he looked down at her, he had never felt so completely open in front of another before. "It is you who has been right since the beginning. You _would_ hate me, Sarah. You would hate the Underground, everything that is my world."

"Then come with me," she implored, "stay with me here."

Jareth merely shook his head and frowned. "You forget what I am, a King of goblins and of magic in my own right. And I am an immortal. There is no place for me here, permanently. I cannot become a part of your world, and I cannot condemn you to mine. It would be the cruelest thing I could ever do. I could never damn you in that way. I cannot keep you."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and brought her hands up to meet his that were wrapped around her face, slowly taking it all in, but she wouldn't accept it. She exhaled a shaky breath and slowly opened her eyes. She saw both Jareth and the Goblin King towering over her. The compassionate and the possessive, the righteous and the tyrant, the shadow and the light; and they both loved her.

He silently ran his hands over her hair, trying his best to calm her as she took another quivering breath, knowing that this was devastating to them both. But it had to be done.

Jareth looked over her shoulder, and conceded silently. "Your dark knight awaits."

Sarah looked over and saw Batman barely standing among the rubble. His cape dropped around him. He looked like he had just fallen down to the earth among falling stars of spark and flame. Even through his cowl, Sarah could see that Batman was transfixed at the sight before him. A magnificent cavern gilded in shattered mirrors and sputtering candles, a black lake with a spiked throne resting at its edge. And Jareth and Sarah, draped in black and white respectively.

Was he seeing a bizarre fairytale? Or a nightmare?

Sarah turned back to Jareth. What did it matter to her what Batman saw? What did anything matter if she couldn't have any of this in her life? Why did she push it away when it was always a part of her? She was constantly offered her dreams and always refused it. But like the spoiled child she was, the minute she truly wanted it, it was taken away from her.

She had never hated herself so much.

Jareth again cupped his hands under the sides of her face tenderly, reverently. He lifted her face up and gazed deep into the gold glowing within the intensity of her emerald greens. They were magic in the fire light. Yes, she was indeed made for him. But his obsession for her had driven him to bring something dark and vile into his power. Obsession had become disturbing, and it caused him to commit violent acts in order to accomplish the dream he was driven to have.

"Obsession doesn't sacrifice," he said aloud, "it only takes. Love sacrifices, it only gives."

And it was clear he had never loved anyone as much as he did the woman crying in his arms. Here, now, he lay down his obsession to keep her in his captivity and gave her her freedom. He was finally able to discern between obsession and love.

"Sarah, I love you."

He did. He truly loved her at that moment.

Sarah closed her eyes. The words vibrated through her, and her skin prickled as Jareth gathered her hair in one hand and inhaled her scent at the back of her neck. He feathered a kiss over her cheek as he enfolded her in his arms.

He clenched his fists around her hair and began to whisper in her ear. "The earth bursts forth with abundance, as above, so below…"

Sarah clung to him, fearing she would fall to her knees. His voice washed over her like a soft wave of warm liquid. It transcended time and the space they were in. Everything slowed. She couldn't feel the heat or hear the crash of rubble all around her. All normal and rational thought left her for a moment, caught in a perfect sphere of nothingness. She could see bright, star fields and felt silver moonlight pull her forward. Languorously, she lay against his chest, her eyes still closed.

"The sky overflows with light," he continued, "as above, so below. Leave behind your pain and burn my name, as above, so below."

Oblivion disappeared, and was replaced with escalating fear. Sarah's eyes suddenly shot open. She jolted upright and opened her mouth to scream in protest. But nothing came out. She couldn't speak! She looked up at him and shook her head back and forth, silently begging him not to say the words.

Jareth remained immobile and looked past her, as still and cold and as beautiful as a marble statue. He was not responsive to her pleas, only his lips moved. "As I turn to dust and cast from your memory, as above, so below."

Her features twisted in horror. A terrible spell was being cast and she couldn't speak to stop him. She put her hands on his cheeks and suddenly pulled back with a sharp gasp. A cold bite stung her palms, like grabbing hold of a chunk of ice.

"As I leave your life so doth your pain, as above, so below."

He was literally frozen to her touch, he wouldn't react to her cries, and it sent her into a silent, desperate rage. Sarah tightened her fists around the edge of his cloak, bunching up the smooth fabric as she tried to pull him closer, trying to force him to really look at her, to see her anguish. Gasping, she turned to beating at his chest with her clenched fists. She pushed him, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, trying to shake him out of his cold, detached state.

But the only movement he made was looking straight into her eyes, and into her soul. "As you leave me in your past so doth your sorrow, as above so below. And so it is."

A sharp pain hit her in the chest and spread over her body. She clapped her hand to her mouth, shaking her head back and forth. The still form of the Goblin King blurred as water brimmed along her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks, not solitary tears but a steady, thin stream from each eye.

"When tomorrow's sun has reached its zenith, you shall forget all that hath ever transpired between you and I."

"NO!"

She was finally able to speak, to scream, really. Her voice seemed to snap the trance Jareth had put himself in.

From where she stood, Sarah watched as he fought with his emotions. Of a damned moral obligation and part redemption of himself; and remorse and anguish over what he had just done to her, to them.

All was still for a moment. The earth stopped shaking. They both remained motionless. Her breathing was ragged and forced; she was still in a state of shock.

Jareth's inner pain at seeing her this way went deep and stabbed him in the heart. No one should treat the ones they love in this way. She did not have the power he had, but she was always strong, despite the atrocities she had been through. He blamed himself entirely for everything that had brought her pain. And he had brought her much sorrow and heartache. They had broken each other. They were the only ones who could touch each other so deeply, then rip the other to shreds.

Sarah breathed deeply as she stared up at him; her stomach was twisting in sickening knots. She thought she would surely collapse out of the ache in her heart. She thought of the times she had refused him and casted him out of her life through the power of her words. Now she truly knew his pain.

"Please don't do this…" she said, the tones in her voice as compelling as the feeling in her eyes. She trembled before him, and held her arms tightly around herself. She could clearly see the longing and the hurt in his eyes. But she could also see that there was no going back.

Her breath caught for a moment before his voice echoed out again, reverberated, and shook the very foundations of the earth.

"I shall be no more than a faint memory of the past that has been left behind. A real farewell, a farewell forever. Not those who part, and are destined to be reunited again in the afterlife. We go to different worlds. We part for all eternity."

Sarah flinched and clutched her stomach, she was in physical pain. "Stop!" She begged him. "Please, stop!"

In answer, he rushed for her and put his hand up to cup the back of her neck, entangling his fingers in her hair. Like a moth to a flame, she stepped into his arms, and his mouth was on hers, and she was lost, everything she'd felt, seen, grieved and loved welled up inside of her. He dropped both of his hands on her waist and pulled her to him with a kind of ferocity that made her heart skip a beat. Sarah was quickly losing control of her primed senses. She couldn't see or hear. All she could do was feel. Her body was being taken over by the most devastating kiss of her life. This was more than just desire. There was a certain tragic sadness emanating from Jareth. Years of being lonely that she understood now. She took his head in her hands and pressed her whole body against his, deepening the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced. She could not have enough of him, his mouth, his taste, his tongue, his body against hers. She ran her hands against the sleek bones of his face, the strong muscles of his neck. She was fire and light and love from head to foot. His lips devoured hers, and she drowned underneath his kiss, never daring to come up for air.

Sarah felt a wetness against the burning skin of her cheek. Her tears mingled with his when their faces touched. At that moment, Sarah became one with Jareth. They merged their compassion with their pain. She not only wept for him, but also wept with him. When he lifted his mouth from hers, she had to bunch his cloak in her hands and hang on to him so she wouldn't fall.

Jareth wiped her tears from her cheeks, put her head against his chest, and held her there. She could hear his heart pounding beneath his heavy armor.

Sarah's eyes closed as his fingers grazed her lips. She grasped his wrist and held his hand against her mouth. His heart beat faster and harder.

"I would go anywhere with you," she said.

Jareth gripped her arms, hard. He clung to her and held her possessively to him, unwilling to let her go. She prayed that he never would and savored the pressure of his grip and the quick rise and fall of his chest. She let him smell the sweetness of her hair and the feel the softness of her skin one last time before he slowly, reluctantly let her go.

Sarah immediately felt empty.

Jareth stepped back, the distance between them looming huge. His eyes glittered. But with anger or sadness, Sarah wasn't sure. His taught, pale skin began to glow as the firelight became brighter. They stood facing each other among the devastation, as the world filled with crumbling debris, falling all around them. His eyes became dark, and his face once again unreadable. He raised his arm and massive boulders of rock began to crash into the lake from an opening in the cavern ceiling. The only way out.

If she didn't move soon she would be buried alive beneath the rubble. But they stood, facing each other as they always had, the only opponents worthy of each other; engraving each other's images into their memory.

For Sarah, that memory would last only a few more hours. But what about him? Would he cast the same spell on himself? Would he live with her memory, with broken dreams, and what remained of their curse?

"_No!"_ She choked back another sob and began to rush toward him. She wouldn't leave him like this. She reached out and almost touched him, but then, Jareth was no longer holding her gaze, with eyes that were barely masking his grief.

That was the last she saw of him.

She was pulled backward and gasping, fell into another pair of armored arms that were still burning. A _clink_ high above her signaled a grapnel hook had caught on the high ceiling of the theatre. Batman triggered the spring-action reel on his utility belt, jerking him and Sarah into the air and up to the highest floor.

They flew up the passageway just as a huge stone column tumbled down upon the spot where they stood. From within the cavern, the roar of walls caving in was heard. A cloud of dust and smoke billowed out from the entrance to the cave. They rose, higher and higher. Sarah buried her face in the crook of his neck when they flew upward past the flames that were consuming the last of the theater, everything was nearly gone.

They flew towards the crumbling rooftop and finally crashed through it, Batman taking much of the impact as he used his body as a barrier for Sarah. The rope jerked them up short and swung them onto the top of the domed roof like a bunjee cord. They tumbled down the sloping edge, rolling, then through air again. Batman threw his cape out and slowed their fall two stories down before they landed onto a side building that hadn't caught fire. Sarah promptly fell out of his grasp as Batman collapsed onto the floor.

She rolled away but Batman was dangerously close to the scaffolds that were overlooking the final four story drop. Sarah groaned and crawled to his side. She grabbed his chest and pulled Batman further away from the edge to safety.

Batman lay with his back to the ground and struggled to catch his breath. Sarah convulsed, doubled over, and put her forehead on his chest. They held onto each other in silence. The sound of the fires – biblical, apocalyptic – was now the only sound.

They were both beaten, bloodied, drained. On the roof, they both lie there, taking great gasps of air and fighting for oxygen. Batman opened and closed his eyes. His vision was filmy and swam from exhaustion.

Sarah cracked her eyes open and looked up, dazed and in shock. Her hair stuck to her sweaty face and hung in strands around her eyes. She saw thin lips, a strong chin, and gray eyes under a black mask.

Batman was overwhelmingly grateful that they were alive and safe. But he couldn't know what Sarah was thinking when she rose to her feet, slowly. His swirling, distorted vision then suddenly focused with absolute clarity. He saw Sarah's face backlit by the raging inferno. She was staring hard, deeply affected by the sight of the theater which meant so much to her for so long. Suddenly, her face was bathed in a brilliant gasoline glow. A beautiful display of fireworks, burst and burned spirals of color snaking through the sky as the melting theater seemed to hang suspended for a moment. It was dazzling in the brilliant light. Then, in what almost seemed like a burst of suicidal energy, it collapsed into itself.

At the same moment, her white dress blew away from her body and into the wind, like tufts of dandelion seeds. Her dark, sweat-stained clothes appeared underneath as if she had never taken them off. She looked up to where the proud, fairy-tale castle once stood. It was now reduced to a heap of junk, the walls barely standing.

She collapsed back against the concrete wall herself, looking up at the sky, listening to the sounds of the world awaking around her. A solitary church bell rang, its sound pure, resonating in the clear morning air. A flock of birds took flight.

She looked up at their silhouettes against the gray sky. Her hair flew around her face, mingling with floating bits of ash and the white gown. After the flock disappeared behind the roof, another bird soared along the wind high above her head. A white owl. It flapped its wings and circled her form several times, flying over her. Then it banked sharply and flew higher until it too disappeared from her sight.

A shiver went through Sarah as Batman staggered defiantly to his feet.

Resigned and despaired, she began to make her way toward him. She could feel her face burning with heat, her eyes full of the last of reflected firelight. She took his good arm and flung it around her shoulders. The wide dark expanse of Gotham City lay before them. They plunged into without a word. No one followed them.

* * *

**AN: **I purposely didn't put this up for a while because this is almost the end of this story, and I had to fill in as many gaps and close as many holes as I could. If there are angry readers out there (I'm sure there are), please take a look at my profile page. I have to give a shout out to FelineNinjaGrace, who helped a lot with the direction I initially wanted but gave it more insight. Also to rusty halos who inspired me to finish. She is writing a fabulous piece on Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle - my new fav couple. Check out her story if you like the pairing - you won't be disappointed. I think one more chapter will be up and that will be that. In the meantime, go see Dark Knight Rises if you haven't already, I felt it was the perfect conclusion to an epic story.

Shalom y Amor


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